


25 Days of HQ Christmas

by leannerd



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Christmas Lights, Cooking, Cozy, F/F, Family, Fluff, Glitter, Ice Skating, Letter, Lists, M/M, Mistletoe, Multi, Naughty, Office Party, Pajamas, Secrets, Shopping, Snow, Stars, Sugar and spice, Unwrap - Freeform, candle, celebrate, cocoa, fireplace, nice, reunited, tradition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:54:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 28,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21633988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leannerd/pseuds/leannerd
Summary: Happy Holidays! I've come up with a list of one- or two-word prompts (much like Inktober) that are related to winter/holidays/etc. as a sort of countdown to Christmas. Varying ships, lengths, and mostly canon-divergent, so enjoy!
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei, Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu, Azumane Asahi/Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou/Oikawa Tooru/Sawamura Daichi, Bokuto Koutarou/Tsukishima Kei, Haiba Lev/Yaku Morisuke, Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio/Kozume Kenma, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio/Yachi Hitoka, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Kozume Kenma/Yamaguchi Tadashi, Kuroo Tetsurou/Terushima Yuuji/Sawamura Daichi, Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei, Oikawa Tooru/Sugawara Koushi, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Shimizu Kiyoko/Yachi Hitoka, Takeda Ittetsu/Ukai Keishin, Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi, Tsukishima Kei/Yachi Hitoka/Yamaguchi Tadashi, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 219
Kudos: 372





	1. Cooking: Akaashi/Bokuto

**Author's Note:**

> I'm using this challenge I've created for myself to explore some different ships in the HQ universe, including my favorites as well as some rare pairs. Each chapter will have a different prompt and (hopefully) a different pairing. I will definitely take requests, so if there's a pairing you'd like to see, please leave me a comment! 
> 
> Prompts will be in the chapter titles and I'll tag the ships as I post new chapters!

All Akaashi wants is a quiet place to write his essay.

It’s Friday night- technically, Saturday morning- and he’s been kicked out of his dorm room. He hasn’t actually been kicked out, but from the copious amounts of alcohol stuffed in his roomie’s friends’ backpacks as they paraded into the shared space, it’s pretty clear that his room isn’t going to be an option for getting any work done. Akaashi just hopes nobody pukes in his bed this time.

The library is closed, Kenma is home for the weekend (and it’s way too fucking cold to walk across campus to the apartments anyway), and the lounge has been taken over by some sort of LAN party. Starcraft, he’s pretty sure, if the chorus of “You must construct additional pylons” means anything. 

So, dorm kitchen it is. The concrete floor is cold and the whole room smells faintly like burnt popcorn, but as far as study spaces go, Akaashi could do worse. The kitchen’s in the basement so it’s quiet and there’s a large table that he can spread his notes and books out on for his all-nighter. And, to be frank, it’s a kitchen in a dorm filled with 21- and 22- year old guys, so, very rarely in use. In fact, Akaashi himself has only been down here a few times (usually to burn his own popcorn), but desperate times and all that.

He’s fully in the zone now. _The Lord of the Rings_ soundtrack is playing softly through his speakers and his fingers are flying over his laptop. He’s sure the grammar is atrocious, the spelling even worse, but that’s a problem for daytime-Akaashi, one who isn’t running on Red Bull and steam.

A loud clang pulls Akaashi out of his zone with a start. 

“Aaah, so sorry! I was trying to be quiet, but the pan slipped…”

Akaashi blinks, unable to speak because was he really so buried in his work that he didn’t notice a literal Greek god walk into the kitchen at 3 in the morning and start cooking? Black and white hair a wild mess, sweatpants slung low on his hips, and the brightest pair of golden eyes he’s ever seen...Akaashi’s concentration is shot, but he’s not going to complain at the moment.

“Are you making eggs at three in the morning?” he asks instead.

The guy laughs, nods, and turns back to his pan and Akaashi thanks every deity he’s never believed in because that laugh has done something to Akaashi’s insides and he’s pretty sure he’s too exhausted to keep his facial expressions as carefully controlled as he usually does.

He tries to go back to his essay, he really does, but now that he’s so aware of the other guy’s presence, it’s hard not to keep discreetly peeking over the top of his laptop. He watches the lines of his shoulders (oh, and they are very good shoulders) as he stirs the eggs in the pan, reaches for the block of cheese and the grater (because of course he shreds his own goddamn cheese), adjusts the single earbud in his ear. Akaashi wonders what he’s listening to.

Then he’s piling a panful of cheesy scrambled eggs onto a plate and turning back around and Akaashi snaps his eyes back to the words on his screen.

“Hungry?” The guy hovers near the table, uncertain, looking at Akaashi. “I mean- if you’re busy, I can go-”

Akaashi’s stomach interrupts, betraying the refusal that was forming in his mind with a loud growl.

He flushes, but the other man just flashes Akaashi a grin that threatens to split his beautiful face in two. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.” 

“Oh, um, you really don’t have to-” but before Akaashi can finish his weak attempt at a protest, the plate is set down in a clear space between them and a second fork is produced and handed to Akaashi. “Uh, thank you,” he says, closing his laptop and shoving his papers to the side to make a little more room. “I guess I really should eat something that isn’t instant ramen or chocolate-covered espresso beans.”

“No worries! Thank you, actually...I made way too much. I don’t think I’ll ever learn how to cook for one.” he laughs and takes a bite of the eggs. Akaashi does the same and struggles to hold back an obscene noise because _goddamn_ these are probably the best scrambled eggs he’s ever tasted. 

“I’m Akaashi Keiji,” he says after a couple more blissful bites. “And thank you for the eggs. They’re ridiculous. Did you put crack in there?”

Bokuto’s grin widens even more, if that’s possible. “Bokuto Koutaro. And no crack, just a stupid amount of cheese. I’m glad you like them. Although,” he taps his fork against his chin thoughtfully as his wide, golden eyes roam over Akaashi’s face, “if I’d known I was going to be cooking for someone so cute, I’d have made something more impressive.”

Akaashi flushes again, but he allows a pleased smile to creep over his face. “Well maybe now that you’ve discovered my super-secret study spot, you’ll get another chance to impress me.”

Bokuto takes that challenge and runs with it.

It becomes something of a routine. Akaashi and Bokuto keep going down to the kitchen; Akaashi does his best to work on his homework and study for his exams while Bokuto cooks, but it’s difficult. He always has his earbuds shoved in his ears, face screwed up in concentration as he works, tip of his pink tongue poking out while he whisks eggs or chops vegetables or flips pancakes. Akaashi really loves watching him cook.

They eat fried rice and talk about their classes. They eat homemade pizza and talk about their families. They eat pasta and talk about their hobbies.

Akaashi is reserved, quiet, private. He notoriously hates most people, which is probably why he and Kenma get along so well. In theory, he should hate Bokuto, too. Sure, he’s ridiculously hot, but he’s also loud, brash, impulsive. He’s just...a lot. 

But Bokuto is also soft. He’s sweet and flirtatious and blushes almost as much as Akaashi does when he pays him a compliment or when Akaashi can’t keep a lewd noise from slipping past his lips when he eats something Bokuto makes. He’s also smart as hell. Akaashi learns that Bokuto is always listening to audiobooks of his class texts because he has a hard time focusing. But he’s learned a workaround and has been on the Dean’s List ever since he figured it out. And he’s perceptive, practically attuned to Akaashi’s emotions. He knows when Akaashi’s had a bad night or when he needs to vocalize his train of thought for his essay. They aren’t in the same classes, but Bokuto listens all the same.

“‘Kaashi?” Bokuto asks one night. He’s standing at the stove, a ladle in one hand, earbud in the other. Akaashi isn’t sure what he’s making tonight, some kind of soup, but it smells delicious. It always does.

“Hmm?” 

“Are you going home for break?”

Akaashi lets out a harsh laugh before he can stop himself. “Uh, no.” At Bokuto’s inquisitive look, he elaborates slightly. “Let’s just say the less time I spend in that house, the better.”

Fortunately, Bokuto doesn’t press the issue. Instead, he grins and says, “Good!” Akaashi cocks an eyebrow and Bokuto flushes slightly. “I mean, it doesn’t sound like a good situation at home and I’m sorry about that. That really sucks. But I’m not going home either. My parents are going on some cruise, some weird second honeymoon thing. I don’t know, they made it pretty obvious I wasn’t invited. But that’s okay because I really wanted to ask you on a proper date after finals and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to wait three-”

Akaashi crosses the short distance between them and cuts off Bokuto’s rambling with a chaste, but firm, kiss. It lasts all of two seconds, but that’s long enough for Akaashi to find out that Bokuto’s lips are warm and soft and that when he’s caught off-guard, a pretty pink blush tints the tips of his ears. Akaashi wants more of that.

“I’m going to say yes, if that makes it easier to ask.” Akaashi murmurs, tugging playfully on the sleeve of Bokuto’s tee shirt. 

Bokuto huffs out a laugh. “Can I take you out after finals?” he asks, bringing his free hand up to cup Akaashi’s face. He rubs a calloused thumb over Akaashi’s cheekbone, pulling a slight shiver out of him.

“Hmm,” Akaashi pretends to consider, but leans his head into Bokuto’s touch, enjoying the way those golden eyes widen and then narrow with mischievous understanding.

“Tease,” Bokuto mumbles, pulling Akaashi in close for another kiss, this one far less chaste. Their lips slot together like they were made for each other and Akaashi has to hold in a gasp as Bokuto’s teeth graze his bottom lip. Bokuto kisses like his personality- enthusiastic and experimental, strong in the way he holds Akaashi flush against his body, but gentle in the way one hand tangles in his dark curls, brushing a thumb behind Akaashi’s ear and making him full-body shiver. 

They break apart, gasping like teenagers, when a hissing and sizzling sound reaches their ears. The soup’s boiled over, but neither can find it in them to care.


	2. Glitter: Oikawa/Iwaizumi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled with this one and am still not loving it 100%...it's a little shorter than I wanted and the ending is just kinda blah, but enjoy some Oikawa/Iwaizumi fluff. I really di enjoy writing this version of the two of them, so I will definitely be revisiting them later in the month. I hope this makes up for my portrayal of Shittykawa in "This Will Be Our Year" because even though I adore him so much, it's so easy to write him as a garbage person.

Iwaizumi doesn’t move from where he’s sprawled out on the couch when he hears the front door slam shut. He barely cracks an eye open when this is followed by a heavy sigh, some muffled cursing, and the sound of shoes being kicked off and a bag dropped on the floor.

Eight years of dating followed by five years of marriage has made him all but immune to Oikawa’s dramatics. He just kind of accepts them as part of daily life at this point and, to be quite honest, he’d be bored without it..

“Iwa-chaaaaan!” 

Iwaizumi suppresses an affectionate smile as his husband sing-songs that stupid nickname he’s had since they were middle-schoolers. He used to hate it, but now it’s just another item on the long list of annoying things Oikawa does that Iwaizumi finds disgustingly endearing. Not that he’ll ever admit to loving the nickname, or the way he picks apart scientific inaccuracies in literally every sci-fi movie they watch, or the matching Chrstmas pajamas he makes them wear every year.

“In here,” he calls, closing his eyes again. “How was practice?”

Another dramatic sigh. “Wild. Their brains were already on holiday. I’m glad to get away from them for a couple of weeks.”

“Mm, don’t lie. You’re going to miss them.”

“Not as much as they’ll miss me.” Oikawa’s voice is huffy, but full of unmistakable affection. This is the usual tone he has when talking about the elementary students he coaches. “Yua was already asking if she could come by the gym during the break.”

Iwaizumi snorts. “Of course she was. She’s Suga and Daichi’s kid!”

“She’s also seven!”

“Yeah, and you were even worse when you were seven.”

Oikawa makes an indignant noise and Iwaizumi smirks and cracks an eye open as his husband leans over the back of the couch for a kiss.

“Whoa, what happened to you?” Iwaizumi’s eyes widen as he takes in the face hovering over his. More accurately, he’s taking in the red and silver glitter that’s splattered over Oikawa’s face, hair, and neck. 

“Oh,” Oikawa comes around the side of the couch and Iwaizumi sits up to make room for him. He flops down in a puff of glitter that makes Iwaizumi cringe internally. He’s going to be cleaning this up until well after the new year. “Well, Sho thought it would be fun for the kids to make Christmas cards for their parents.before the break. And he thought glitter would be the perfect addition.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, wondering what idiot would sell Hinata Shoyo glitter. He doesn’t have to ask why Hinata thought it would be a good idea to give fifteen 7- and 8-year-olds glitter. It is pretty much guaranteed that if the kids think something will be fun, the oversized toddler who helped Oikawa coach would think so, too. And Oikawa is a sucker for all of them (Hinata included) so it’s easy for Iwaizumi to see how this happened.

“That...actually explains a lot.”

“Yeah. Well, it devolved quickly.” 

“Did they at least finish their cards before they attacked you with glitter? And please tell me Sho got the worst of it.”

Oikawa snickers. “Yes and yes. Luckily for everyone involved,” he gestures vaguely to his pale blue sweater, which is also shimmering with his every movement, “glitter suits me.” He flashes his husband a cheeky smile, all white teeth and wide brown eyes. “Don’t you think so, Iwa-chan?”

And as Iwaizumi leans back slightly to inspect his husband, he has to admit that it really does. 

Oikawa has always driven Iwaizumi a little crazy. He’s selfish and clingy and childish. He takes too long to get ready in the mornings. He’s petty and constantly needs his ego stroked. He’s haughty and thinks a little too highly of himself. He holds grudges way too long to be considered healthy. He’s a perfectionist with the ability to sulk for days on end when things don’t go right.

But it’s so easy for Iwaizumi to forget all that when Oikawa is looking at him with that goofy grin on his face, eyes soft with affection, face dotted with glitter and shimmering like he belongs in the stars. And when Oikawa looks at him like that, it's so easy for Iwaizumi to fall in love with him over and over again.

Iwaizumi threads his fingers through his husband’s and pulls the taller man closer to him, pressing their lips together gently. The kiss is swift, but so sweet and warm and perfect. It takes only moments to convey years of mutual affection, trust, and respect and it never ceases to amaze Iwaizumi how just a few seconds with his lips pressed against someone else’s (no, not just someone else...Oikawa. Always Oikawa) can feel like home.

Iwaizumi presses his nose into the crook of Oikawa’s neck and he giggles, pulling away just a little. “Hajime, you’re going to get glitter all over yourself, too.” Oikawa laughs, brushing his hand over Iwaizumi’s cheek. It comes away glittery, but Iwaizumi can’t find it in himself to care.

“Hmm,” Iwaizumi sighs dramatically (he did learn from the best, after all), and presses a kiss to the corner of Oikawa’s mouth. He stands abruptly, patting his husband's cheek with a teasing smirk on his face. “Guess you better come help me wash it off, then,” he calls over his shoulder as he makes his way to the bathroom.

He chuckles softly to himself as he hears the familiar shuffling sounds and muffled curses of Oikawa trying to chase him down and pull his sweater off at the same time.


	3. Snow: Hinata/Kageyama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have some KageHina fluff. I wanted to do a lot more with this one, but time was not on my side today. 
> 
> If you have ship requests, I'd love to know what they are! I have a few more that I really want to do, but there are p l e n t y of spaces to be filled. :)

“We’re here!” Hinata spreads his arms out and looks at Kageyama, beaming.

Kageyama looks less than impressed. “It’s a hill,” he deadpans, shoving his hands deeper in his coat pockets.

The impassive look on Kageyama’s face does nothing to deter Hinata’s enthusiasm. “It’s a huge hill!”

Kageyama spares a glance at Hinata out of the corner of his eye. The fiery color of his hair is even more shocking against the grey and white backdrop of the snowy day and his nose and the tips of his ears (because _of course_ he isn’t wearing his hat, the dumbass- it’s like he’s trying to get sick) are tinted an adorable pink from the cold. The snow is coming down lightly and Kageyama’s filled with an overwhelming urge to get close enough the count the flakes he knows are sticking to Hinata’s eyelashes. 

“Yes, you’re right. It’s a very big hill,” he says, digging his toe into the white powder covering the ground. He usually despises being cold, but right now he’s grateful for something to blame his sudden blush on. “Your point is…?”

Hinata throws his head back and laughs, a sweet tinkly noise that does stupid swoopy things to Kageyama’s stomach and makes him simultaneously want to punch and kiss Hinata’s face. The redhead puts his arms down by his sides and grins at Kageyama, brown eyes shining with excitement. He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet and Kageyama hates, hates, _hates_ how contagious his excitement is. Whenever Hinata looks at him like that, it’s pretty much guaranteed that he’s going to get pulled into doing something stupid. Or reckless. Likely both.

“So...let’s sled!” Hinata exclaims, giving Kageyama a playful shove and gesturing towards the hill again. 

Kageyama sighs and Hinata whoops triumphantly- he knows what that sigh means.

“That was easier than I expected!”

“Well, you already dragged me up this stupid hill,” Kageyama shrugs, “I’ve gotta get down somehow.” 

Hinata lets out that stupid laugh again and god Kageyama just wants to smoosh his face. He vaguely remembers reading something in one of his classes about how it’s human instinct to want to squeeze or squish cute things, how it’s the brain’s way to temper that overwhelmingly bubbly feeling by adding in a dash of hostility. He’s pretty sure it’s something called ‘cute aggression,’ and directed more at baby animals than anything else. But it’s not like Hinata’s that different from a fluffy orange kitten anyway.

Kageyama looks around them, coming to a realization. “Uh, hey, dumbass?” 

“Yeah?” 

"Where are the sleds?"

Hinata gives Kageyama a look that somehow manages to be sheepish and mischievous all at the same time. "Well, I don't technically have sleds. But,” he says, reaching into his backpack and produces two large trays, “I got these!”

Kageyama squints. “Are those...are those trays from the cafeteria?”

“Yep!” Hinata says proudly, shoving one into Kageyama’s chest. 

“Do I even want to know how you managed to smuggle them out?”

“Nope!”

Kageyama sighs heavily. After a few years of friendship with the stubborn-as-all-hell redhead, he’s learned to pick his battles and reprimanding him for stealing trays from the cafeteria is not one that seems worth is time at this point. Besides, he looks so proud of himself and maybe Kageyama’s going soft or the snow is having an effect on his brain, but he doesn’t really want to rain on his parade today. 

He takes the tray from Hinata’s hands and inspecting it. It’s large enough for Hinata, sure- the guy is tiny, compact, and flexible (Kageyama stops that train of thought right in its tracks). But Kageyama is all gangly limbs and there’s no way this isn’t going to end badly.

He’s about to say so and stop this before it goes south when Hinata looks up at him, smile fully mischievous now, and says the magic words.

“Race ya to the bottom!”

In an instant, they’re both launching themselves onto their trays- somehow Kageyama is able to fold his limbs up so they’re not dragging in the snow too much- and racing down the hill. It’s a lot steeper than it looked from the top and Kageyama thinks this must be what it feels like to fly. Only it’s better, with snow spraying up around him, and Hinata just out of reach. He can’t help it, he lets out a whoop and a laugh of genuine joy. He hears Hinata echoing the sentiment just ahead of him.

And then something happens. There’s an icy patch or a rough patch or a branch or a rock- Kageyama isn’t entirely sure what he hits, but Hinata skids to the side and Kageyama doesn’t have enough maneuverability to veer off to the side to miss him, so they crash and roll down the last third of the hill in a tangle of arms and legs. 

“Shit, shit, are you okay?” Hinata’s landed mostly on top of Kageyama, but he can’t stop himself from frantically running his hand over the smaller boy’s face checking for any bruises or abrasions. The absolute last thing he needs is for the other half of his freak duo to be hurt and unable to play when classes resume. Not to mention Hinata will be an absolute nightmare if he has to take a break from playing volleyball.

Hinata answers by simply leaning over and pressing his lips against Kageyama’s. Instantly, his spiraling thoughts fall away and his brain is on overload from Hinata’s scent, his chapped lips pressed against Kageyama’s, his orange hair dusted with snow. Hinata pulls back after only a moment and grins at what Kageyama assumes is the absolute dazed and stupid look on his face. 

“I’m good,” he says, a little breathless. “Wanna go again?”

Kageyama’s lips quirk up in a half smile as he takes in the god-given view that is Hinata hovering over him. He tugs playfully on the collar of Hinata’s coat, bringing their faces centimeters apart. “Yeah,” he murmurs, “I really do.”

The snow continues to fall and their makeshift sleds are forgotten completely.


	4. Cozy: Kuroo/Bokuto/Akaashi/Tsukishima

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hah! Day four and I already failed you. Don't worry, you'll get a two-fer so I can catch up eventually. For now, I'll just work a day behind. :)
> 
> Enjoy some 3rd gym OT4 snuggles. I wasn't as literal with this one as I was with the other prompts so far, but I hope it feels cozy to you. <3

Kuroo wakes slowly, mind lingering somewhere between consciousness and sleep. The body heat of the three men sharing his small dorm bed (technically two dorm beds pushed together, but still too small for the four of them) and the multitude of blankets he’s buried under keeps pulling him back into the haze of almost-sleep. He’s happy to linger here, though. The winter wind is whipping against the windows and the snow is coming down hard. But it’s the first Saturday of holiday break, so it isn’t like they have anywhere to be.

The letdown after finals always takes a while to kick in for Kuroo- between volleyball, his work as a TA, and his ridiculous course load, he’s used to being constantly busy, always on the go. But he pushes aside the nagging feeling that he should be doing something, getting ready for practice or a meeting, and contents himself to snuggle further into the covers and wait for his boyfriends to wake, too. 

He’s got every right to be uncomfortable in his current position. He’s sinking slightly into the crack between where the two beds are pushed together. There’s a knee shoved against his hip and Bokuto’s got an arm thrown over him, effectively pinning his arms to his sides. But this sort of thing comes with the territory. It’s give and take in any relationship. In Kuroo’s case, it’s a little of the former, a lot of the latter.

Give up a little comfort and personal space, get more love than he ever thought he’d be capable of receiving in his entire life.

The thought makes him smile and he snuggles back further into Bokuto’s arms.

“Comfy?” Bo speaks against Kuroo’s neck, voice raspy with sleep. Kuroo smiles at the feeling of Bokuto’s arms tightening slightly around him.

“Mmm,” he hums an affirmation. “Comfy cozy.” 

“That’s good.” He feels Bo smiling against his neck, so he shifts slightly to look at him. His golden eyes are still closed and his usually wildly expressive face is soft and sleepy and half-hidden under a mess of black and white bedhead that rivals Kuroo’s own. He bumps his nose gently against Bokuto’s and when he’s rewarded by a wide smile and one of those golden owl-like eyes cracking open, Kuroo feels such a rush of affection that he’s sure if Bokuto wasn’t holding him, he’d just float away.

He angles his head slightly so he can press a kiss to the corner of Bo's mouth and, if possible, the other man’s smile gets even wider. Bo shifts a little and captures his lips in a proper kiss and Kuroo makes a small contented noise in the back of his throat. 

“What’s the plan for today?” Bokuto murmurs against Kuroo’s lips.

“More of this, I think,” Kuroo answers, nipping Bokuto’s bottom lip between his teeth and eliciting a quiet gasp from the other man. 

“Keep that up and we’ll end up waking up ‘Kaashi and Tsukki.” Bokuto growls. He pops his head up slightly and nods at the other side of the bed.

Kuroo smirks and turns in Bokuto’s arms so he can see his two other boyfriends. Tsukki is curled up impossibly small and wedged up against Akaashi’s chest and despite Akaashi being the shortest of them all, he’s spooning the tallest of the four like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Tsukki’s resting bitch face is softened a little when he’s asleep with his blonde curls ruffled and his glasses tossed on the bedside table. Being held by Akaashi, whose hands are splayed against the flat planes of his stomach and chest, softens it even further. Kuroo can’t see Akaashi’s face as it’s buried between Tsukki’s shoulderblades, but Kuroo can make out a mass of dark curls just behind Tsukki. 

“God, they’re cute,” Bo whispers. 

“We’re lucky men,” Kuroo agrees.

A particularly violent gust of wind rattles the small window above their beds and, as if on instinct, Tsukki’s hand reaches out towards Kuroo. He takes it, lacing their long fingers together and scooching closer to the blonde, leaning forward to ghost his lips over his forehead. Bokuto moves with him and soon the four of them are pressed so close they’re practically on one of the dorm beds. Bokuto has reached around Kuroo’s body to take one of Akaashi’s hands and if the movement wakes him, he doesn’t show it.

Kuroo thinks he could stay like this forever, limbs intertwined with the three men he loves more than life itself. Sure there are little things like food and water to think of, not to mention showers and peeing, but those are minor inconveniences in Kuroo’s mind. He smiles at the idea of staying under these blankets with these men surrounding him, hiding away from the harsh elements. It’s stupidly romantic and over the top and he knows Kenma would give him so much shit for it, but he can’t help it that Bokuto, Tsukki, and Akaashi bring out that stupidly romantic side of him.

He turns his head so he can see Bokuto out of the corner of his eye. “Can we just stay like this forever?” 

Bokuto smiles and buries his nose in the crook of Kuroo’s shoulder, pressing a kiss there for good measure.

“Absolutely.”


	5. Secret: Ukai/Takeda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy some UkiTake! I really, really love these two and definitely enjoy the idea of Ukai being a flustered little gay when he's in Takeda's presence. 
> 
> I am hoping to get some quality writing time this weekend and catch back up so I'm current. :)
> 
> Would love to hear thoughts/ship requests/situation requests

Ukai steps out of the gym and takes in a huge breath of fresh, winter air. Karasuno’s final practice before the holiday break is finally over and, true to form, Hinata and Kageyama have used their authority as co-captains to insist it be an extended practice. They claim it’s to make up for the two weeks off the team is getting, but in all actuality they’re just as obsessed with the sport as they were in their first year. And as pleased as he is to coach such incredibly dedicated players, Ukai is seriously looking forward to cutting down his commitments even for that short period of time. 

He shoves his hands in his coat pockets and prepares himself for the walk home. It’s dark and cold, but a clear night without wind, so it won’t be too bad. In fact, it would be damn near perfect if he just had a cigarette. God knows he could use one after tonight’s practice, but he’s gone well over a year without at this point, so he settles for enjoying the sound of his boots crunching in the snow instead.

He doesn’t get very far when the sight of Takeda standing at the edge of the sidewalk stops him short. His back is to Ukai, but he’s wearing that brown peacoat that accentuates his slim waist and his head of curly black hair is tilted up towards the sky. Ukai can visualize the easy smile that likely rests on the shorter man’s face and the sparkling of his brown eyes as he gazes at the stars. 

He doesn’t need to see his face to know- all of Takeda’s expressions are burned into Ukai’s mind by this point anyway. Three years of working side by side will do that. Three years of intensive study of the volleyball team’s faculty advisor will definitely do that.

“Evening, sensei,” he calls, forcing his feet to move again and approaching Takeda.

Takeda turns to him wearing the exact expression Ukai imagined and his heart does this weird stuttering thing in his chest. “Ukai,” he says, pulling his scarf slightly away from his mouth and, yep, there’s that smile that passes through Ukai’s mind every damn time he closes his eyes. “You know you don’t have to call me ‘sensei’ when it’s just us.” 

Ukai shrugs. “Force of habit,” he huffs, all too aware of his proximity to Takeda. “What are you doing? Figured you’d be on your way home by now.”

Takeda chuckles sheepishly and turns his face back to stare at the sky. “Oh, it’s silly. Kind of embarrassing, really.”

“Oh? Well now I’m intrigued.” Ukai playfully nudges the shorter man with his elbow.

“Well, when I was a kid, my mom told me that the stars were the best secret-keepers. So if I ever had anything to get off my chest, I could just come outside and choose a star to tell and I would feel better. So sometimes when I’m outside on a clear night like this one, I just...stop and spill some secrets.” He runs a hand through his mess of curls and laughs. “Silly, right?”

Ukai smiles and scrubs a hand over his face because while it should not be possible for a grown man to be completely adorable, here’s Takeda Ittetsu as living, breathing, adorable proof otherwise. He thinks, not for the first time, how unfair it us that someone as sweet and unassuming as Takeda can cause such a literal fucking tsunami of emotions.

“And what kind of secrets are you telling the stars tonight, sensei?” He asks, keeping his tone light and joking.

Takeda shuffles a little closer to him and Ukai has to clench his fists in his coat pockets to resist slipping his hand into the other man’s.

“Well I told that one,” he points, a mischievous smile playing across his lips, “about how sometimes I wear my headphones in the lounge with nothing actually playing in them so I can listen to Saito-sensei and Kaneko-sensei gossip.” 

Ukai chuckles and Takeda points to another star. “And I told that one about how I just watched _The Matrix_ for the first time last week thanks to a certain volleyball coach’s constant nagging. And I might have thought it was completely overrated.”

At this, Ukai gasps and presses a hand to his heart. “What is this betrayal?”

Takeda throws his head back and laughs, a lovely sound that warms Ukai from the inside out. He wants to hear that sound forever, to record it and set it as his ringtone, to wake up to it every day. 

“What about that star?” He points to a particularly bright one.

“Ah, that one.” Takeda adjusts his glasses and shuffles his feet, suddenly nervous. He seems to steel himself and catches Ukai’s eyes with his own, gaze soft and a little anxious, but unwavering. “Well, you see, I told that one...how I feel about you.” 

Ukai’s mouth is suddenly dry and he goes a little lightheaded. “How you…” he trails off, unable to gather a coherent thought. “You-”

“I told that star how, ever since you agreed to coach at Karasuno, I’ve been excited to come to work every day. How you’ve taught me so much about volleyball and being a leader and enjoying life. How my stomach does this weird bubbly-bubble thing whenever you smile at me and how the only thing I’ve wanted for the last three years is to kiss your beautiful, scary face and how I hope that one day I’ll have the courage to tell you that I’m totally head over heels for you. Even if you have shit taste in movies.”

Ukai blinks, dumbstruck. His heart is pounding so hard he’s sure Takeda can hear it even through the shirt, hoodie, and coat he’s wearing. It’s everything he’s ever wanted to say to Takeda and nothing he’s ever expected to be reciprocated. 

Only when Takeda speaks again does he realize he’s allowed the silence to stretch to the point of discomfort.

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable and I hope this doesn’t affect our working relationship! I don’t expect anything at all and maybe you can just forget all about it by the time we get back from break but I just wanted to tell-”

Ukai ducks his head, cutting off Takeda’s words at the source. His lips are as soft as he dreamed they would be and he melts into the kiss easily. Ukai finally pulls his hands out of his coat pockets and wraps his arms around Takeda’s waist, pulling the smaller man flush against his body. Takeda’s arms snake up Ukai’s back and tangle in his shaggy hair, tugging slightly and eliciting a slight gasp; he then takes that opportunity to dart his tongue between Ukai’s lips and Ukai is pretty sure his soul has left his body and he’s ascended to a higher plane of existence.

The break apart, panting slightly, each breath puffing out visibly in the cold. Ukai is still holding Takeda as close as he can get considering all the layers of clothing and jackets and coats between them. He lets out a chuckle of amusement when he sees how Takeda’s glasses have fogged up slightly.

“Like hell I’m gonna forget about this,” he growls, pressing his forehead against Takeda’s before reluctantly taking a step back. He takes Takeda’s hands in his and revels in the bright smile the other man trains on him. “Are you free for dinner?”

“Mm,” Takeda hums an affirmation and smiles. “And a movie?”

Ukai grins cheekily as they exit the school gate hand-in-hand. “How about _The Matrix Reloaded_?” 

Takeda groans. “I’m going to have to totally re-educate you about quality films, aren’t I?”

Ukai pulls Takeda closer to him and wraps his arm around his shoulder as the teacher slips an arm easily around his waist. “Good thing we’ve got all the time in the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takeda is not wrong about _The Matrix_. I will die on this hill. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	6. List: Daichi/Sugawara

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here's some domestic as fuck DaiSuga. I imagine them to be the same as mentioned in Chapter 2, but it's unclear (and, frankly, unimportant) if the timelines match up. I think I'd eventually like to write a short fic of this iteration of these two, so I'd love to hear if that's something people would like to read. <3

Suga lowers the book he’s reading and barely suppresses a laugh when Daichi flops face-first on his side of the bed with an exasperated sigh. 

“Is Yua finally asleep?”

“Mm,” Daichi grunts. “I thought I was supposed to get more sleep the older she got.” 

Suga grins and pokes Daichi’s side, earning another grunt. “It’s only ten. You’re just getting old.”

“You’re not wrong,” he grumbles, rolling over and scooting up so he’s shoulder to shoulder with his husband. “She’s already asking when we can take her to the gym to practice. And she wanted to hear about the time Uncle Tanaka knocked out my tooth. Again.”

Suga laughs heartily at that, brown eyes tearing up. “God, he’d be thrilled to hear that he’s the star of her favorite bedtime story.” 

Daichi rolls his eyes, but doesn’t bother containing his smile, which is swiftly overtaken by a yawn. “This is going to be a long break. It’s only day two and she’s already so restless.” He yawns again. “Maybe it was a bad idea to let Oikawa and Hinata coach her.”

Suga huffs out a laugh, closing his book and setting it on the bedside table. He pulls his husband closer, allowing the taller to snuggle into his shoulder. He runs his fingers through Daichi’s short hair and leans down to press a soft kiss to his temple. Daichi closes his eyes and hums contentedly under Suga’s gentle touch.

“Sorry to say it, babe, but with you as a father, Yua’s volleyball obsession was pretty much inevitable.”

“You’re really one to talk, vice-captain,” Daichi snorts.

“You’re right. She was doomed from the start.” Suga sighs dramatically, earning himself a low chuckle from his husband. 

“Speaking of doomed,” Daichi reaches over to where he dropped a few crumpled papers and hands them to Suga, “Yua finished her Christmas wish list.”

“Oh, wonderful,” Suga murmurs, taking the papers and scanning them. “Three pages? What a greedy child we have!” he laughs.

“Mm, she gets it from her father,” Daichi cracks an eye open and smirks, reaching up and tugging gently on a lock of silver hair that has fallen out of the other man’s ponytail. 

“I’m not even going to dignify that blatant lie with a response,” Suga huffs, sticking out his tongue at his chuckling husband. “So what do you suppose, divide and conquer? Both our moms have already texted me asking for gift ideas.”

“Yeah, that’s probably best. Some stuff we can nix right away. I think she asked for a pony again this year.”

Suga laughs. “You know if they could get her one, they would. They spoil her.”

“It’s not possible to spoil your grandchild,” Daichi pitches his voice higher in a sad imitation of their mothers. Both women have repeated this same mantra nearly every day since Yua was born.

Suga giggles and ruffles Daichi’s hair. “Yeah, yeah. We’ll just tell them all the expensive stuff on the list.” He goes back to flipping through the pages. “There’s a lot on here we already wanted to get her, though. Lots of volleyball stuff, a new bike…” his voice trails off and his hand stills in Daichi’s hair as he reaches the last item.

“What’s wrong?” Daichi turns his face up to look at Suga. His body has gone slightly rigid and there’s a hint of pink on his pale cheeks.

“Uh, Dai, did you read the whole list?”

Daichi sits up a little. “No, just skimmed it. Why?” Suga wordlessly hands him the last sheet of paper. There are four items on it.

_Hair Chalk_

_Smart watch_

_Harry Potter Lego Sets_

_A baby brother_

Daichi’s jaw drops and the papers fall out of his hand. His eyes snap back to Suga who doesn’t need to say a single word for Daichi to immediately know what he’s thinking. He’s worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and watching Daichi’s reaction intently. 

“Is this something you’ve been thinking about, Koushi?” he asks gently, turning to grip Suga’s hands in his own.

“Well, I mean, I haven’t _not_ been thinking about it. I was just waiting for a good time to bring it up…” Suga trails off, extracting his hands from Daichi’s and fiddling with his hair anxiously.

Daichi’s dumbfounded expression suddenly shifts into a blinding grin, all traces of exhaustion dropping off his face. He places a hand on either of Suga’s cheeks and plants a long kiss right on his mouth.

“Wha-?”

Daichi turns to his bedside table and opens the drawer, extracting a book from under a mess of papers and handing it to his husband. There are dozens of pink and green sticky notes poking out at various points between the pages and it’s clear Daichi’s not on his first readthrough.

_Baby Makes Four: Welcoming a Second Child Into the Family_

“I was just waiting for a good time to bring it up,” Daichi smirks.

Suga’s mouth drops open, expression flickering between elation and shock with just a little hint of terror. He drops the book in his lap and grips Daichi’s strong shoulders, pulling him forward into an ecstatic, openmouthed kiss. Daichi melts into it, hands instinctively flying up to tug Suga’s hair out of its ponytail so he can card his fingers through it.

“Are we really doing this?” Suga gasps when they pull apart. His brown eyes are glistening with tears and he swipes a thumb over Daichi’s cheek only to have it come away wet, too.

“Yeah,” Daichi says breathlessly. “Yeah, I think we are.”

Suga presses another kiss to his husband’s mouth, then his nose, then his forehead. He rests his lips there for a moment before mumbling, “What’s another ten years without sleep, right?”

Daichi barks out a laugh, hooking his arm around Suga's neck and pulling him down for another kiss.


	7. Reunited: Asahi/Nishinoya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! I wanted to crank out two today, but this monster took on a life of its own. 
> 
> Anyway, this one is for you, Minnie245. AsaNoya angst galore. I hope you like it!

“Noya!”

Tanaka’s voice echoes through the locker room and Nishinoya lets out a quiet sigh. He had taken his time showering after practice, dressing carefully, tying his shoes, untying them, and tying them again. He had hoped that dawdling would allow him the opportunity to walk alone, potentially ditching the team holiday party he was supposed to be heading to. But of course Tanaka had waited for him.

Tanaka always waited.

“Coming!” he calls, scrubbing a hand through his shaggy hair and hefts his duffle bag over his shoulder. It looks like it should be too big for his small frame, but Noya is strong. Stronger than most give him credit for. As he moves towards the door, he spares a passing glance in the mirror and grimaces. His hair is a little limp, still damp from the shower, and the dark circles under his eyes are prominent, a new, permanent addition to his overall look. He plasters on a smile and it looks incredibly fake, but it’s the best he can muster after a double practice. 

Tanaka will see through it, but he knows Noya will talk when he feels up to it. 

“Hurry up, will ya? I’m starving!” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”

The two friends walk in relative silence. Noya’s anxiety is off the charts and it’s a new feeling that he really doesn’t know what to do with and Tanaka’s never been great with words, so he just occasionally claps Noya on the back in a show of support. Nishinoya’s been able to fake it the last eight months, at least with most of his teammates. He’s done okay, all things considering. He spends a little more time studying in the library with Ennoshita and a lot more time in the gym practicing with anybody who happens to be there, usually Kageyama and Hinata.

The less idle time he has, the better. Because idle time equates to daydreaming and his daydreams always lead back to one thing.

_Asahi can’t even look him in the eye as he speaks, voice monotone as though he’s rehearsed this speech a dozen times. Knowing Asahi, he probably has. His eyes fixate on a point in the distance, somewhere over Noya’s head and for some reason this makes Noya more angry than the fact that with every word he speaks, the taller man is shattering Noya’s heart into smaller and smaller pieces until there’s nothing but dust._

_“Why, Asahi?” Noya’s voice cracks and he hates himself for it._

_“I told you, it’s just not going to work out,” Asahi mumbles, pulling anxiously on a lock of chestnut hair that’s slipped out of his headband. “I’m going away and you need to focus on your future.”_

_“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? The last two years don’t mean shit to you?” He barely resists saying, ‘You are my future.’ That’s too much, too pathetic, even for him. Even if it’s true._

_“Please don’t curse at me, Yu,” Asahi shuffles his feet, avoiding Noya’s questions._

_“Oh fuck right off with that nonsense!” Noya’s voice is rising but he can’t bring himself to care. He can feel the tears prickling behind his eyes and scrubs a hand over his face angrily. “Goddammit, Asahi, you don’t get to fucking break up with me the day before you leave for Tokyo and then tell me not to curse at you! And you sure as shit don’t get to decide what’s best for me.” he spits._

_“I know, I’m sorry-” Asahi instinctually takes a step forward and reaches for Noya. The libero jerks back from the movement and scowls at his boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. Whatever. Asahi’s shoulders slump even more and he looks ready to burst into tears, as if he’s the one that got broken up with and not the one that did the breaking._

_“Whatever. Just,” he waves a hand dismissively as he turns to walk away, “thanks for your concern or whatever. But you can fuck off now. Have fun in Tokyo.”_

“Noya?” Tanaka’s voice and a gentle jostling of his shoulder pull him back to the present. They’re standing in front of the restaurant that’s playing host to the volleyball club’s annual holiday party. Ukai started the tradition last year when Karsuno had started actually working together as a real team and it had been a blast. This year, Takeda planned it so that those who had graduated last year could stop in while they were home for break and honestly, Noya would rather bury himself under ten feet of snow than step foot in the restaurant. 

“Do you think he’s already here, Ryu?” he asks his friend. He absolutely hates how small his voice sounds, how scared and nervous and absolutely _pathetic_ he feels, but Tanaka just smiles and grips his shoulder.

“Probably,” he says, watching Noya out of the corner of his eye to gauge his reaction. “Ennoshita was saying that he and Daichi and Suga were all traveling together and you know Suga’s never late to a party.”

Noya allows a small chuckle to escape, though the lead ball sitting in the pit of his stomach makes it come out half-assed and forced. “Right.”

“You know you don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I can tell them you got sick or your great aunt died or something. Hell, I’ll tell ‘em you died if you want, though that one might be hard to explain-”

“It’s fine,” Noya cuts off Tanaka before he can get into the specifics of how Noya could fake his own death. “I’m fine,” he asserts, voice rough. 

As it turns out, though, he isn’t fine. As soon as they step into the party room, Noya immediately feels like he’s been gut-punched. Tanaka’s saying something, but Nishinoya can’t hear anything for the blood rushing through his ears. The air leaves his chest in one fell swoop as his vision zeroes in on Asahi because _fuck_ if he doesn’t look good. His big, brown, puppy-dog eyes are sparkly as ever as he stands, hands shoved in his pockets, bent forward slightly, laughing at something Hinata is saying. He’s allowed his scruff to come in a little more and his hair is a little longer, Noya notes, and only pulled back halfway, the rest falling in slight waves around his shoulders. 

Noya’s hands twitch at his sides because all he wants in that moment is to run his fingers through that hair, or press his cheek against that scruff, to kiss that stupid, smiling mouth. And then he’s angry. Angry at Asahi for looking so good when he should look as bad as Noya feels. Angry at Takeda for inviting the four graduated students back when it’s clear to the entire team that Noya hasn’t been the same since Asahi left. And he’s mostly angry at himself because, despite everything, Noya’s first instinct when Asahi turns his head and looks at him for the first time in eight months is to launch himself into his arms and bury his face in his neck.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, Ryu, I can’t do this,” he gasps, clenching a hand on Tanaka’s arm in a death grip. He’s trembling and he can’t breathe and then Suga and Daichi are looking at him, too, and their pitying expressions are just too much. When he sees Asahi shuffling his feet with that tell-tale expression that means he’s debating walking over to them he wants to simultaneously burst into tears, rip all his hair out, and flip a table. “Just. Fuck, just tell them...something. Anything. I have to go,” he mumbles, edging toward the door. Tanaka opens his mouth and Noya knows he’s going to offer to come with him, but he cuts him off. “No. Stay. Please.”

Tanaka doesn’t push. He never does, always seems to know exactly what Noya needs from him. He just nods and says, “Call me later, okay? Be safe.” 

Noya backs quickly out of the room before too many of the others can take notice of him and escapes into the cold December air. 

He walks without direction. Tears that he refuses to let spill are blinding him and his head is pounding from the pressure of holding it all in. Somehow, he finds himself standing at the edge of the park and decides this is as good a place as any to spend some time. If he goes home too early, his dad will ask questions and he’s not in any state to lie believably. So he just settles himself on the swing, reveling in the way the chain numbs his hands, and waits for time to pass.

“Yu.” 

_Fuck._

Noya refuses to look up as Asahi settles his tall frame awkwardly in the swing next to him. Even so, his presence invades each one of Noya’s senses. The sound of his voice, the flash of black and orange scarf he can see out of the corner of his eye, even the scent of him is so familiar, so distinctly _Asahi_ , it hurts. The dull ache he’s been nursing in his chest for the last eight months is suddenly sharp and throbbing. It’s hard to even breathe, let alone speak.

“Yu,” Asahi says again. His tone is pleading and Noya doesn’t have to look at him to know the expression that’s on his face. But he does anyway- he’s a glutton for punishment that way.

“You don’t get to call me that anymore,” he says, proud of how hard his voice comes out. Asahi’s face falls. 

“Sorry, Nishinoya,” he murmurs and Noya starts a little at how foreign his full last name sounds on Asahi’s tongue. A beat passes and Asahi speaks again. “Why did you-”

“I swear to Christ, Azumane, if you ask me why I left I will shove that scarf so far down your throat you’ll still be shitting yarn on Christmas morning.”

Asahi’s jaw clamps shut and he grimaces. Noya feels another gross little bubble of pride at the look on Asahi’s face.

“I’m sorry, Nishinoya,” he tries again.

“For what?” Noya turns his body in his swing to face the other man fully. Asahi’s got this dumbfounded look on his face and something in Noya just breaks. All the pain and rage and heartache that he’s boxed up in his mind and shoved into a corner comes bubbling out, ugly and unabashed. “What are you sorry for, Azumane? For using my given name when we haven’t spoken in eight fucking months? For coming to Karsuno’s holiday party like it’s nothing, like you still belong here? For breaking up with me with the _shittiest_ fucking excuse the day before you leave for uni? Or for blocking me out of your life completely? Are you fucking kidding me? You block me on every social media platform like we’re goddamn twelve years old?” Noya takes a breath. Asahi’s head is bowed, thoroughly chastised, but now that the words are finally pouring out, he can’t seem to stop them. Every harsh word, every flinch from Asahi makes Noya feel lighter. “Let me guess, you thought a clean break would be easier for us? Maybe it was, for you. No attachments, no hang-ups back home, no long distance boyfriend to deal with? You just get to pack up and start over like it’s nothing. It’s been eight fucking months, Asahi, you can tell me the truth now.” 

In half a second, Asahi is off the swing and kneeling in the snow in front of Noya. Tears are spilling out of his brown eyes, but he doesn’t bother to wipe them away. His hands are fisted against the legs of his jeans, shaking, and he’s whispering, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” over and over again.

Noya lets out a shaky breath and swipes a hand angrily across his eyes. He’s not sure when they started, but his own tears have finally spilled over and now they won’t stop.

“Are you sorry for breaking my fucking heart, Asahi? Is that what you’re sorry for?”

“Yes!” Asahi shouts and Noya sucks in a breath, taken aback at the sudden volume. It’s not often Asahi shouts when he’s not on the volleyball court and he’s never shouted at Noya. “Yes, yes, goddammit! I’m so sorry. I’ve been sorry every day for the last eight months and I just...I didn’t know how to make it right. I thought I was doing the right thing!”

He places his large hands on Noya’s cheeks, calloused thumbs wiping away the tears that are flowing freely. Noya instinctively leans into his touch. “How could leaving me possibly be the right thing?” he whispers. His voice is raspy from yelling and his head is aching and his hands are totally numb, but Asahi’s hands on his face feel so right, so much like home, and God, how he’s missed this, so he just leans down slightly and rests his forehead against Asahi’s.

“You were being scouted, Yu. God, you’re incredible, and some of those scouters were from tier one schools. Schools I could never get into, schools far away from Tokyo.” Noya closes his eyes, warming at the sound of Asahi’s voice and the brush of his thumbs over his cheekbones. “And I knew you would turn them down. For me. For us. So I just thought…”

Noya’s eyes snap open and he draws back slightly. “So you just thought you’d make the decision for me? That if I thought you didn’t love me anymore that it’d be easier for me to go?”

“Yeah,” Asahi murmurs, dropping his hands to his sides and stares down at his knees.

“Fuck, Asahi, you’re such an idiot.” Noya scrubs a hand over his face. The adrenaline of screaming at his ex has worn off and now he’s just exhausted. “Why wouldn’t you have just talked to me about this? I never took you for such a drama queen, but here you are taking the most drastic measures possible for something we never even discussed!” Asahi’s head snaps up to look at Noya and the younger sighs. He allows himself to push his frozen fingers through the length of Asahi’s hair and, despite the numbness, it’s just as soft as he remembers. “I still had a full year of school left. We had plenty of time to figure things out. And, yeah, it would have sucked, probably, and it would have been a tough decision. But we should have done it together, you jerk.”

“I know,” Asahi murmurs. “I know and I’m so sorry. I wish I could take it all back, do everything different. And I don’t expect anything from you, least of all forgiveness, but I just...when I saw you take off tonight...I couldn’t let you go. Not like that. Not without telling you-”

Noya leans forward, cutting of Asahi’s rambling with a swift kiss. It’s soft and tentative, nothing like the heated, desperate kisses they used to share in the storage closets after practice or the sneaky makeout sessions in dark hallways at training camp- it will take some time to get back to that place. But in this moment, Noya finds himself willing to try.

“-that I love you,” Asahi finishes when they part. 

“I love you too, dummy,” Noya says, finally feeling a genuine smile spread across his face. “Now get out of the snow and let me walk you home. You’re going to catch a cold.”

They walk in a comfortable silence. They hold hands, fingers threaded together like they were made for each other, like it’s been one day since they’ve done this rather than eight months. 

“Hey,” Noya turns his face up towards Asahi, “how’d you get here so fast anyway? Kinda figured Tanaka would try to fight you before he’d let you follow me.”

Asahi gives Noya a sheepish smile and bites his lip. “I might have asked Kiyoko to distract him so I could slip by. She asked him for a play-by-play of your guys’ last game and when I left he was reenacting his greatest hits.”

“That useless twerp!” He lifts himself up on his tiptoes and presses a gentle kiss to Asahi’s scruffy jaw. “Remind me to send Kiyoko a thank-you card.”

"Maybe a bouquet of roses too," Asahi murmurs, squeezing his hand a little tighter and earning a snort of laughter from Noya.

"Asahi," he says, eyes suddenly serious. He tugs on the other man's hand and they both stop walking. "We can do this. We're both strong, but we're stronger together. We always have been and we always will be. No matter where I go to school or where you find a job. We just have to stick together. Everything else is just details, okay?"

Asahi smiles and ducks his head to capture Noya's lips with his own. "You're right. We'll do this together. I promise."


	8. Nice: Tsukishima/Yamaguchi/Yachi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a sucker for poly ships and I adore the idea of TsukkiYamaYachi and honestly there's just not enough of this ship out there so, enjoy. Little bit of angst, but with Yachi and Yams in the mix can it be anything other than sweet?
> 
> Also, my headcanon for Yamaguchi is that they are nonbinary, so that is how I will pretty much always write them. I've tried to be careful of the pronouns, but if you see any slips, let me know and I will fix right away!

Tsukishima pauses outside the apartment door and sighs heavily. It’s been another long day of answering inane questions about various electronic devices that a five-year-old could answer. And even though he thought he had done remarkably well handling his temper--as well as any retail worker in the midst of the holiday season could--he still ended his day in his manager’s office for a ten-minute monologue regarding his attitude.

_“You’re just not approachable.”_

_“You’re too harsh.”_

_“You need to be nice, Tsukishima.”_

The words had been running on repeat in his mind the entire walk home. He had even taken an extra couple of rounds around the block in the hopes that the intrusive thoughts would take the hint and leave before he comes home. He knows these moods he gets into bring down the entire apartment and he hates seeing the crestfallen looks on his partners’ faces when he brushes off their attempts to get him to talk about it. But it looks like it’s just going to be another one of those nights.

He enters the apartment and toes off his shoes, moving towards the kitchen where he can hear Yamaguchi and Yachi chattering away. Yamaguchi is standing at the stove, dark hair pulled back from their freckled face with an orange headband, stirring something in a large stock pot- it smells like their mom’s famous chicken soup recipe, one of Kei’s favorites. Yachi is seated on the counter near the stove, blonde bob framing her face, giggling at something Yamaguchi’s just said. They’re both in comfortable clothes- Yachi’s wearing leggings and Yama’s got on Kei’s favorite pair of shorts and both are wearing old Karasuno sweatshirts- so at least he knows that they aren’t going to try to get him to go out tonight.

He watches the pair for a moment and feels a small pang in his chest at how good they look together, how easy they make it seem. They look like they belong together. He knows he should count himself lucky to have them (and he does, every single day) but he can’t help but wonder how long it will be before they get sick of putting up with him. Sure, he’s smart and objectively good-looking, but he’s also a huge brat. He can’t seem to tame the salt in his words, his smiles almost always come out as smirks, and he knows his general communication skills leave a lot to be desired. He’s never been what anyone would call a nice person and how he ended up dating not one but two literal cinnamon rolls is beyond him (and everyone else that knows of their relationship, a fact that nobody seems to let Tsukishima forget).

Before they catch sight of him, Tsukishima backs out of the doorway and moves to curl up on the couch. He wants to keep that image of them smiling and laughing with each other in his mind before he ruins it, the way he always does.

“Kei?” He barely hears Yachi’s sweet voice over the mantra of _jerk, asshole, selfish_ that’s running through his head. His partners enter the living room hand-in-hand and seat themselves on either side of him. Yachi pulls her legs under her and reaches a hand over to card her fingers through his blonde curls. 

“Bad day?” Yamaguchi asks, tipping their head to be directly in Tsukishima’s line of sight. Tsukishima turns his head away, barely resisting pulling away from the both of them. They exchange a look and Tsukishima wonders if he concentrates hard enough he might be able to phase through the floor and disappear.

“Tsukki, what’s wrong?” Yamaguchi takes Tsukishima’s hands in theirs.

“Bad day,” he finally mutters.

“Bad thoughts?” Yachi asks quietly. Tsukishima nods curtly, still refusing to make eye contact with either of them and Yachi sighs. She leans forward and presses a soft kiss to his temple. “Can you tell us about it?” she mumbles, her lips warm against his skin.

“I just...I don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“This,” Tsukishima gestures vaguely. “Us.” He closes his eyes when he feels both of them still, immediately regretting the words as they leave his mouth. 

It’s silent for a beat, then Yamaguchi speaks. “Did someone say something to you, Tsukki?”

“Yeah,” Yachi echoes. “Where is this coming from? Do I need to fight someone?”

Tsukishima peeks over at Yachi. Her normally wide brown eyes are narrowed, eyebrows pulled together. She actually looks like she wants to punch someone.

“No,” Tsukishima sighs. “I just. I don’t understand why you two put up with me. Why you’re so nice to me and why you act like I’m someone worth caring about. You two are the most exceptionally kind human beings I’ve ever met, the only people I can stand to be around, honestly, and in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m kind of a huge asshole. So I just can’t help but wonder why.” The words tumble out before he can stop them and as much as Tsukishima wishes he could swallow them back up, he can’t. So he just waits. 

A beat passes and then he’s being pulled away from the back of the couch. Yamaguchi slides in the space between Tsukishima’s back and the couch cushions, sliding their arms around his chest and holding him close. And then Yachi is climbing on his lap, straddling him, hooking her arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug.

“Kei, honestly, for somebody so smart you can be really stupid sometimes,” she says. Tsukishima has to suppress a smile when he feels Yamaguchi snort against the crook of his neck. Yachi draws back and looks at him, brown eyes serious. “Kei, we love you. The differences between us, the hows and whys, do they really matter?” Tsukishima tries to look away, but Yachi takes his face in her tiny hands and holds him steady. 

She leans forward and kisses him, soft and gentle at first, but for all her sweetness, Yachi is an impatient kisser. She nips at his bottom lip, her tongue demands entry into his mouth and he obliges easily, allowing her to explore this territory she knows so well. Her hand moves to find Yamaguchi’s head, to thread her fingers through their hair and when he feels his partner purr against his neck under her touch, he wonders how he ever questioned how the three of them fit together. Because the answer is simple- they just do.

And then Yamaguchi is speaking, voice steady against his neck. “She’s right, Tsukki. We love you. God, you’re so smart and you make us laugh and we feel safe just being near you.” Their voice is breathy and they pause occasionally to plant a soft kiss on the sensitive spot behind his ear. “And sure, you might be a brat sometimes, but I’m needy and Yachi is an airhead and we all love each other anyway, right?” Yachi pulls back at that, her kissed-red lips pulled into a pout and Tsukishima can’t help but break into a genuine laugh. He turns to exchange an amused look with Yamaguchi and his freckled partner swiftly captures his lips with their own. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Yachi’s pout melt into something resembling hunger and he hums happily into the kiss.

The voices are still there, still telling him that he’s not nice enough, not good enough, not lovable enough, but in these moments, sandwiched between his shield consisting of two tiny and fiercely protective cinnamon rolls, they fade easily into unimportant background noise.


	9. Sugar & Spice: Hanamaki/Matsukawa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's some Makki & Mattsun fluff for Sshizukaa! To be honest, I haven't read many fics with them in starring roles (it seems like they mostly show up as side characters in IwaOi stories) and never any of them as a couple, so really hope I did them justice for you. Either way, it was fun to write!

“I’m home,” Hanamaki calls, slipping his shoes and jacket off by the front door. 

“In here!” Matsukawa’s voice comes from the direction of the kitchen.

“God, you will not believe the day I’ve had,” Hanmaki starts into his rant as he moves towards the kitchen. “Three meetings double-booked and we’re shorthanded, so Yahaba was riding my ass all day. And not even in the sexy way, just in a finger-wagging, nagging...” he trails off as he enters the kitchen and he takes in the sight before him. 

It looks like a cyclone whipped its way through their kitchen. It looks like somebody blew up a bakery. It looks like the ceiling of their kitchen opened up and the store’s baking aisle rained from the heavens. 

He’s pretty sure every mixing bowl they own is out and dirty, eggshells litter the countertops, and every conceivable surface is covered in flour. Matsukawa stands amidst the wreckage, eyebrows knitted together as he inspects his phone. His face is streaked with flour and spices and Hanamaki’s pretty sure there’s a glob of dough stuck in his hair. He is, however, pleased to see that his boyfriend is shirtless under his apron. Which is probably for the best considering the amount of flour and, he thinks, cinnamon and nutmeg, streaking up his arms. 

Hanamaki folds his arms and leans against the doorway. “Whatcha doin’?” he sing-songs as he loosens his tie and pops the first few buttons on his shirt.

Matsukawa glances up with a cheeky smile that mirrors Hanamaki’s own. “Uhhh...baking?”

“Oh, is that what you call it?” Hanamaki quirks an eyebrow, dark eyes scanning the chaos that used to serve as a kitchen.

“I mean, I call it a valiant effort,” Matsukawa says proudly. He pushes a hand through his hair and grimaces when his fingers come back with dough stuck to them. “Let’s just say it was a little touch and go there for a bit.”

“So what brought on this sudden urge to bake...cookies?” Hanamaki moves cautiously into the kitchen and inspects one of several plates of cookies.

“No reason,” Matsukawa shrugs and turns away to start piling bowls into the sink. “Don’t eat those,” he says right as Hanamaki picks up one of the cookies.

“Why?” Hanamaki pouts.

“That was a trial-and-error batch,” he says, as he begins filling the sink with water and soap. “Emphasis on the error. Did you know that your mom’s handwriting is really hard to read?”

“Yeah, dude, that’s why I was able to forge notes every time I skipped class.” Hanamaki sniffs the cookie and decides to try it anyway.

Big mistake. 

“Holy shit, how much cinnamon did you put in this?” Hanamaki coughs, glaring at Matsukawa’s back. He’s quiet, but Hanamaki can see his shoulders shaking with laughter.

“I told you not to eat it!” he chides, then points a mixing spoon at a rack of cookies cooling on their small kitchen table. “The good batch is over there.”

Hanamaki grins and snatches a cookie off the closest cooling rack, taking a large bite. He can see his partner watching him out of the corner of his eye, gauging his reaction. 

“Holy shit,” Hanamaki says again.

“Good ‘holy shit’ or bad?”

“Good. Very good,” he mumbles through a mouthful of cookie. “This is my mom’s spice cookie recipe, isn’t it!”

Matsukawa smiles, pleased, as he watches Hanamaki shove another whole cookie in his mouth.

“Yeah,” he says. “I had to call your mom to have her decipher that chicken scratch after a few batches, but…” he trails off with a shrug, clearly embarrassed.

“Mattsun,” Hanamaki purses his lips, watching his boyfriend go to work brushing flour off the countertop and into a bowl to dump in the garbage, “why did you do all this?”

A hint of pink creeps up Matsukawa’s neck and he answers without looking at Hanamaki. “Well it’s the first year we’re not going to be able to go home for Christmas and I know you said it doesn’t bother you but I feel really awful that my work schedule is the reason so...I don’t know. Your mom always makes these for Christmas so I thought it would be nice to have them here, too.”

Hanamaki’s chest simultaneously tightens and swells with emotion. Matsukawa is quiet and rarely serious, so he’s taken a little by surprise at his boyfriend’s words. It’s not that he doesn’t know Mattsun loves him, but he has to admit that a showing like this really seals it in Hanamaki’s mind just how incredibly lucky he is.

He crosses to the sink and stands behind Matsukawa, slipping his arms around him, underneath the apron. He smooths his hands over the strong muscles there, enjoying the warmth of Matsukawa’s skin under his hands. “Oh, Mattsun,” he murmurs, ghosting a kiss behind his boyfriend’s ear before pressing his face into the crook of his neck, “that’s really gay.”

Matsukawa barks out a laugh as Hanamaki cackles and dances away from him. He isn’t fast enough though, and after a short-lived chase around the kitchen island, ends up pressed against his boyfriend with two floury handprints on the ass of his work pants. 

“Hella gay,” Matsukawa murmurs against his lips.

“Super gay,” Hanamaki affirms.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”


	10. Naughty: Daichi/Kuroo/Terushima

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write smut for these three, I really did. I had a lot more planned out for this one, but time got away from me and so I'm leaving this here with the promise to write a steamy follow-up. Please forgive me for the tease!

“He looks good up there, doesn’t he?” a low voice in Terushima’s ear causes him to jump, nearly dumping his drink.

He glances sideways to see Daichi has slid into his corner booth at the karaoke bar without his noticing, an impressive feat considering how acutely aware Terushima is of the other man’s presence at all times. He’s leaning forward into Terushima’s space, his chiseled chin resting in his hands, eyes locked on the small karaoke stage across the bar. Daichi’s lips are curved into a slight smile and his gaze is hooded as he watches his boyfriend come to the end of his rendition of “Santa Baby.” His cheeks are a little flushed, but Terushima is unsure if that’s from the alcohol their friends have been practically forcing on him or Kuroo’s impressive performance.

He’s coming to the end of the song, so Terushima pulls his eyes back to the stage allowing himself to fully appreciate the view in front of him. Kuroo’s voice comes out low and sultry and he’s wearing black skinny jeans which leave little to the imagination, especially when the way he’s dancing is mostly swaying hips and the occasional booty pop. It’s...a lot. 

_“Hurry down the chimney tonight...”_

Kuroo’s eyes lock on the two of them as he sings the last line and Terushima’s breath hitches slightly because as inappropriate as it is to lust after a taken man (or two, in Terushima’s case because Daichi is _so_ close and smells _so_ good right now) he just really can’t get enough of those intense cat-like eyes. And, to be fair, Terushima’s never really been one to worry about what’s quote-unquote appropriate.

From the smirk on Daichi’s face, it’s clear he’s noticed Terushima’s reaction to his boyfriend. And from the way he leans a little more into his space, brown eyes flicking between Terushima and Kuroo, who has started making his way toward their table, it’s clear that Daichi’s okay with it.

The three of them have been dancing around their attraction to each other for a while now. Until recently, Terushima thought it was really a one-sided thing- Daichi and Kuroo have been dating for years, after all. Sure, Kuroo flirts with him, but that’s just how he is. Teasing words, fleeting touches, lingering glances...Terushima figured he was just like that with everyone. It was only recently that he noticed those same things coming from Daichi, by far the more stoic and level-headed of the duo, that he began to feel maybe the attraction is, in fact, mutual.

Kuroo slides in the booth on Terushima’s other side, cocky grin firmly in place, red and white Santa hat set at an angle on his mess of dark hair. “Hello, boys,” he says and leans over the younger man to kiss Daichi, putting on a show in the process. It’s clear the two of them want Terushima to watch the way their lips slot together just right, the flash of pink tongue, the stroke of Daichi’s fingers on those cheekbones that Terushima’s pretty sure could cut glass. And, honestly, Terushima could watch this all night.

Terushima fixes the two with a lazy smile as they pull apart, cheeks flushed and lips a little swollen. “Good show,” he murmurs and Daichi huffs out a little laugh. 

“Well thank you,” Kuroo adjusts the Santa hat on his head, smirk morphing into a full-on shit-eating grin. “And what do you plan on asking from Santa for Christmas this year, Yuuji?”

Despite the little thrill that runs through him when Kuroo uses his given name, Terushima can’t help but snort out a laugh at the line. Daichi rolls his eyes at his boyfriend and sits back a little. “Really, Tets?”

Kuroo shoots a pouty look at his boyfriend as he leans more into Terushima’s space. He lingers there a little and Terushima’s suddenly very aware of how long and elegant Kuroo’s neck is and how solid Daichi’s thigh feels pressed against his own. His body thrums pleasantly and the combination of the obvious glances the two are exchanging as well as the alcohol he’s consumed emboldens him.

“I was always under the assumption that you had to be on the nice list to get a present from Santa.”

Kuroo’s eyes flick back to Terushima’s and he grins. “Are you saying I wouldn’t find you on my nice list?”

Terushima gestures vaguely. “Do I look like I have literally ever been on the nice list?”

Kuroo leans back, considering. His grin is slowly becoming predatory and it causes Terushima’s stomach to do somersaults. “Let’s see...piercings…” he rubs his thumb down the shell of Terushima’s ear, toying with the black studs that decorate it, and the younger bites his lip to stop a gasp from escaping.

Daichi grins and joins in, placing a hand on Terushima’s leg and toying with the frayed holes in his jeans. “Hm. Ripped jeans,” he murmurs and between the two of them Terushima is going into sensory overload.

“Definitely a delinquent, right, Dai?”

“Naughty list for sure,” Daichi agrees. 

Terushima has to take a moment to breathe so that his voice doesn’t come out as breathy and hazy as he feels. “So what does the naughty list get me? Coal, right?”

Kuroo’s hand drops from where it’s been teasing the skin of Terushima’s ear and he trails a finger down his jawline and Daichi is still thrumming his fingers over the threads covering the hole in his jeans. “Lucky for you,” Kuroo says, “you’re the exception. Everyone else is getting coal. You get us.”

All the air goes out of Terushima’s chest and his amber eyes flick back and forth between the two men. Both are gazing at him expectantly, the want very clear in their eyes, but clouded by just a touch of hesitancy. “You’re...serious?” Terushima asks, because as much as he enjoys flirting with the two men and as much as he would give up to be with them, he needs to make sure they aren’t just playing him. 

“We are,” Daichi answers, cupping Terushima’s cheek and turning his head gently to face him. His brown eyes are warm as ever, and incredibly genuine. “We like you, Yuuji. Like, a lot. And we know you like us.” Terushima tries to look down at that, but Daichi holds his face steady, brushing a calloused thumb gently over his lips. 

“So no pressure,” Kuroo says softly, resting his chin on Terushima’s shoulder and pressing his nose lightly behind his ear, “but we’d really like to take you home with us tonight.”

“What do you say?” Daichi asks, a smile playing at his lips as though he already knows what Terushima’s answer is going to be. Terushima grins, placing a hand over Daichi’s, pressing it to his cheek and leaning into the touch. His other hand reaches around to toy gently with Kuroo’s hair and goddamn if it isn’t as soft as he had dreamed it would be. 

“I say let’s get the fuck out of here.”


	11. Candle: Yaku/Lev

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say about this one except that Yaku and Lev are both gay disasters and Kenma is o v e r it. Enjoy!
> 
> So sorry I missed posting yesterday! I came down with something, so ended up taking a whole bunch of cold medicine and going to bed early. I'm going to try to make up for it this weekend if all goes well.

Lev leans forward at the front counter, resting his chin in his hands, and lets out a long sigh. He’s vaguely aware of Kenma glaring at him from where he’s perched on the stool behind the other register, but he can’t find it in himself to care. Not when he’s got eye candy to ogle, anyway.

Because Yaku, the cute guy who works at the bookstore at the other end of the mall, is back, browsing for candles. His lips are turned down slightly and his eyebrows are drawn together in concentration as his caramel-colored eyes scan the labels. Lev watches as he takes a step back and cranes his neck slightly, looking at the higher shelves. Lev never knew he had a thing for necks, but Yaku has a _very_ nice neck, long and elegant and topped with curls nearly the exact same shade of brown as his eyes. 

Lev realizes he let another sigh slip when Kenma snaps his magazine shut and turns to face him. “Lev, I swear to god if you do not talk to him today, I’ll fire you,” he deadpans.

“Kenmaaaa,” Lev whines, “you can’t do that!”

Kenma fixes Lev with his best “try me” stare and Lev pouts, defeated. 

“Besides, I do talk to him. I tell him to have a nice day every time he comes in.” Lev keeps his voice low because, while in most situations he’s outgoing and happy-go-lucky, he’s painfully self-conscious when it comes to Yaku. He chances another glance at the shorter man whose delicate hands carefully pick up first one candle, then another, then place both carefully back on the shelf.

“Okay, you actually scream it when he’s almost at the door, so _that_ doesn’t count,” Kenma states flatly, rolling his eyes. “Ask him for his number. Ask him what time he gets off work. Ask him what he does with all these overpriced candles he keeps buying.”

“I can’t,” Lev hisses, pressing his palms against his pink cheeks. “Have you seen him? He’s way too cute. Way out of my league!”

Kenma quirks an eyebrow and opens his magazine back up. “Your lack of self-awareness is painful,” he mutters.

“What do you mean?”

“Ugh, you’re really gonna make me say it, aren’t you?” Lev gives Kenma a blank look and his coworker sighs, eyes still scanning the magazine. “Okay, you are _objectively_ attractive. You’re tall and have interesting eyes and good skin. Not to mention, what on earth could a college student need with dozens of scented candles? And he only buys them when you're working, you know. Any time he comes in when you aren't here, he just tries to look casual while he browses and then leaves. I guess that means you’re good for business," Kenma shrugs.

Lev blinks, unsure what to make of this new information. Kenma isn't one to flatter people, even when he might get something out of it (like Lev shutting up)- hell, he barely spares his boyfriend a compliment- and he's incredibly perceptive, so maybe he isn't wrong. But before his brain can process what this might mean, he's once again distracted by Yaku, this time approaching the register with a small green candle.

"Oh, no, looks like my register is broken," Kenma says, lazily pushing random buttons and causing the outdated machine to squawk angrily as Yaku approaches. "Lev can take care of you, Yaku-san. I gotta go...do...something…" he trails off, not even bothering to come up with a good excuse. Kenma slides off the stool and makes his way to the back room of the shop without a second glance, completely ignoring Lev’s murderous glare.

Lev can feel the flush creeping over his face as Yaku’s eyes flick back and forth between Lev and Kenma’s retreating form. “Um, did you find everything alright?” he asks as his brain finally kick-starts.

“I did, thank you, Haiba-san.” Yaku sets the candle down and gives Lev a small, almost shy, smile. Lev returns the smile and he can feel the tips of his ears turn pink as those caramel eyes sparkle at him and Yaku’s smile widens slightly.

“Good,” he murmurs, turning his attention back to carefully wrapping the candle. “This one is nice. I like the outdoorsy scents.”

“I do too. Though I picked this one because of the color, honestly,” Yaku admits, tapping his finger on the counter and handing over his card. “It’s the same shade of green as your eyes,” he says, then claps a hand over his mouth right as Lev’s brain short-circuits completely. 

“Um.”

“Oh. Oh my god, how mortifying. I can’t believe I just said that. I’m so sorry, god this is really embarrassing,” Yaku rambles, hiding his face behind his hands as he continues to mutter apologies, looking a little like he wants to melt into the floor.

“Do you want to go out sometime?!” Lev interrupts, a little too loudly. He clears his throat and tries to exercise some volume control despite the fact that his heart feels like it’s about to pound right out of his chest. “I mean, for coffee or dinner or literally anything?”

Yaku lowers his hands and looks at Lev, cheeks flushed the cutest shade of pink Lev thinks he’s ever seen. “You aren’t just saying that because I’m ready to die of embarrassment right now, are you?”

Lev’s eyes widen. “No. No! Not at all! I actually…” he shifts from one foot to the other and chews his bottom lip before continuing in a rush, “I actually think you’re really cute. Like, really really cute, and you seem so smart and have a really nice voice and I’ve just been way too shy to talk to you so if you’re free and you want to…” he trails off uselessly.

Yaku’s cheeks are still pink, but his smile is wide as he takes his card, receipt, and candle from Lev. “I’m off at 8, if you want to meet me at the bookstore.”

“Yeah, okay. Great, 8 is perfect. Okay!” Lev’s stomach is full of butterflies and he can’t seem to get his brain to function enough to string a coherent sentence together. But Yaku is grinning at him as he puts his wallet away and chuckling lightly, so Lev guesses it doesn’t really matter.

Lev is still staring at the door that Yaku disappeared through when Kenma reemerges from the back room. He takes one look at the dopey smile on Yaku’s face and sighs, perching himself back on the stool. “About damn time,” he mutters, opening his magazine back up and settling in for the rest of their shift.


	12. Family: Bokuto/Tsukishima

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, y'all I did it- two in one day! Enjoy some BokuTsukki- I love this duo more than anything, I think.
> 
> Also, I promise I love Tsukki. I love him so much. I don't know why I insist on making him miserable with every fic I put him in, but here we are.

Tsukishima barely glances up from his book when Bokuto barges into his dorm room and drops an overstuffed backpack by the door. 

“Don’t you know how to knock?” he grouses, but his boyfriend simply grins widely and bounds over to join him where he’s lounging on his bed. 

“Nope. Forgot,” he mumbles, pushing his head through the crook of Tsukishima’s arm, effectively blocking his view of his book. Tsukishima rolls his eyes, but puts the book down anyway, allowing Bokuto to envelop him in his arms and nuzzle his face into his neck.

Tsukishima rests his cheek against the top of Bokuto’s head, comforted, as always, by the feel of the silky strands of black and white hair against his skin. Bokuto’s eyelashes tickle his neck and Tsukishima feels a small smile start to creep out, but he doesn’t bother to bite it back, knowing that Bokuto can’t see his face. “When’s your train leave?” 

“Couple hours. Yours?”

Tsukishima’s mouth twists and he makes a noncommittal noise, shifting uncomfortably. He had hoped to avoid this conversation, but when Bokuto draws back and looks at him, gold eyes wide and questioning, Tsukishima realizes it’s unlikely he’ll get away with it. He picks his book back up instead and pretends to read, studiously avoiding Bokuto’s gaze.

“Tsukki?”

“Hm?”

Bokuto delicately plucks the book from Tsukishima’s hand and sets it down, tipping his head so he’s directly in Tsukishima’s line of sight. Tsukishima purses his lips and fixes Bokuto with a blank stare.

“Kei.” Bokuto’s voice is soft, but firm and Tsukishima give a small, defeated huff.

“It’s no big deal,” he shrugs. “I’m staying here for break.”

“What? Why?”

It’s times like this that Tsukishima wishes Bokuto was as oblivious as he seems. But he’s so attuned to the slightest change in Tsukishima’s moods, so much more perceptive than anyone gives him credit for, and so goddamn easy to open up to that Tsukishima knows it’s completely pointless to try and avoid telling him the painful truth. Tsukishima’s family doesn’t want him around.

“It’s not a big deal,” he tries instead, shifting slightly away from Bokuto. But Bokuto is nothing if not persistent, shifting back towards Tsukishima and taking his hands gently. 

“It is. What happened, Kei?” Bokuto’s eyes are piercing; it hurts to look at them, but he can’t look away.

“Ah. My folks made it abundantly clear that…” he trails off, but Bokuto is still watching him expectantly. “They made it clear that I am no longer welcome home.”

Bokuto’s face flashes through several expressions in the span of about three seconds- confusion, understanding, anger, sadness. He chews his bottom lip, a sure sign that he’s considering his next words carefully, something he doesn’t often do.

“Is it...because of me? Because of us?” he asks softly, shattering Tsukishima’s heart because as much as he hates to admit it, Bokuto’s hit the nail on the head.

He shrugs, which is all the affirmation Bokuto needs. He opens his mouth to say something, but Tsukishima stops him with a swift, chaste kiss. “Don’t you dare apologize, Bo. I don’t think I could handle it if you tell me you’re sorry for being with me.”

Bokuto nods and presses his forehead to Tsukishima’s, holding his hands gently and rubbing his calloused thumbs over the soft skin of Tsukishima’s wrists. “What did Akiteru have to say?”

Tsukishima huffs out a harsh laugh. “Aki’s a pushover when it comes to our parents. Especially now that he’s working with Dad. He might not agree, but he won’t stand up for me and he won’t argue with them.”

Bokuto’s eyes darken and his lips tug down into a frown. “Coward,” he mutters darkly. Tsukishima hates seeing this side of him. Beyond the fact that his parents flat-out told him they don’t want him around, it hurts more to see how affected Bokuto is, how angry and sad he is for Tsukishima’s sake.

He sighs and pulls his hands out of Bokuto’s grip, cupping the other man’s face and stroking his cheekbones. He can see tears filling his boyfriend’s eyes and he wills him not to cry because he doesn’t think he’ll be able to hold it together if Bokuto starts. “It isn’t worth it. They aren’t worth it. I don’t have any desire to spend the holidays with people who don’t want me there, so I’m fine just staying here and getting ahead on next semester’s assignments. I promise. I’m fine. It’s fine.”

“It isn’t fine!” Bokuto says angrily and, yup, there go those tears, falling down his cheeks and wetting Tsukishima’s fingers. His chest tightens and he sets his mouth in a straight line, willing himself not to lose his composure. They both can’t be crying messes right now.

He presses a kiss to Bokuto’s forehead and sighs. “No, it’s not. But it has to be. It’s only a couple of weeks and we can Skype every night, promise.”

Bokuto draws back slightly, eyes wide. “Skype? Are you kidding? You’re coming home with me, Tsukki.” Despite a few tears still spilling down his cheeks, his voice is firm and it’s clear this isn’t a request.

Tsukishima’s eyebrows shoot up as Bokuto grabs his phone and is already tapping away. “No, I can’t do that, Bo. I can’t intrude on your family time…” 

Bokuto whips his head up to stare at Tsukishima. His eyes are fierce and his mouth is set in a determined line. “Tsukki, you _are_ my family,” he says. “Your parents, your brother...they’ve made the biggest mistake of their lives letting you go. But I’m not going to.” 

He leans in and presses a soft kiss to Tsukishima’s mouth. It’s sweet and needy and Tsukishima can taste salt and it takes a moment to realize that it’s coming from his own tears, not Bokuto’s. They pull away and Bokuto removes his glasses and peppers feather-light kisses under his eyes, stopping Tsukishima’s tears in their tracks.

“Okay,” Tsukishima rasps. It’s all he can say, but it makes Bokuto’s entire face light up, just the way it’s supposed to be. 

“Good. Because if you insisted on staying here, I was going to, too, and I can guarantee my bed at home is way comfier than this one,” he bounces on the bed slightly, emphasizing his point. “Besides, my mom’s been dying to meet you. She’s been asking for months.” Bokuto’s grinning and Tsukishima's heart feels so full of affection and contentment, he can’t help but mirror the expression.


	13. Lights: Kenma/Yamaguchi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kenma/Yamaguchi fluff with just a tiny hint of angst. 
> 
> Kenma's social/crowd anxiety is pulled straight from my real life which is probably why I feel the need to pair him with the sweetest cinnabun that has ever graced the world of Haikyuu!!

“Kenma? Can I come in?” 

Kenma shuffles around in his bundle of blankets and pokes his head out of the first opening he can find. The movement causes the small bundle of tan and white fur curled against his chest to meow indignantly. Yamaguchi is leaning against the doorway, dressed in thermal leggings and an oversized tunic sweater, cheeks still a little flushed from the cold outside. A gentle smirk plays across their freckled face as the kitten bounds out of bed to run over to them, demanding to be cuddled.

“Hey, Momo,” they murmur, picking up the kitten and rubbing noses with him before glancing back at Kenma. “Sorry to come by unannounced. I can go if you want. Kuroo let me in on his way out.”

Kenma doesn’t answer, but he lifts the blanket invitingly and Yamaguchi smiles, sliding under the covers with their boyfriend, cocooning the two of them closely together.

Yamaguchi wraps an arm around Kenma and plants a soft kiss on the top of his messy blonde hair. Kenma buries his face in the crook of Yamaguchi’s neck, snuggling into their warmth. Momo is perched on the pillow next to Yamaguchi’s head, batting at the strands of hair that have escaped their braid. A few minutes pass in comfortable silence but, for once, Kenma is the first to break it.

“M’sorry,” he finally mutters, voice muffled by the thick sweater.

“For what?” Yamaguchi asks, weaving their fingers through his hair and scratching gently at his scalp the way he likes.

“I was supposed to go to the light show with you today.”

Yamaguchi hums and presses another kiss to Kenma’s head. “Don’t worry about that. Yachi got off work early today, so she went with me.”

Kenma’s chest tightens with a combination of guilt and jealousy and he rolls in Yamaguchi’s arms so he’s turned away from them and draws his knees up to his chest, curling into himself. He can feel himself withdrawing and he hates it and hates even more that he can’t stop it from happening. The guilt is compounded by the fact that even though he’s the one who let his partner down, Yamaguchi is the one comforting him. Again. 

“I should have been there,” he mumbles. Because he’s Yamaguchi’s partner, not Yachi. Yet somehow Yachi is able to go out and do all the date-like things that Kenma can’t and the thought makes his stomach churn.

Yamaguchi’s hands are still scratching lightly at his scalp, but they make no move to turn Kenma around or pull him closer. They have an instinctual knowledge for how much or how little touch Kenma needs at any given time. Kenma aches in the knowledge that he's incapable of being there for Yamaguchi the way they are for him.

"Hey," Yamaguchi's voice is soft, comforting, just like their touch. "Please don't go away from me."

Kenma relaxes his muscles and, after a few quiet moments, shifts back around. He still isn't able to face them fully, but he nestles himself into the crook of their arm and inhaling their scent. The tightness in his chest loosens slightly just by sharing the same space with Yamaguchi.

"I'm sorry," Kenma sighs. "I just...I wish I could do things like a normal human. Go out with you like a normal boyfriend. You know, without having an entire crippling meltdown."

“Hey now,” Yamaguchi tips Kenma’s chin up. “None of that ‘normal’ talk. You know I hate that word.” They wrinkle their nose so cutely that Kenma can’t help but let out a small huff of laughter.

“Yeah, I know. I just hate that I let you down every single time. I know how much you were looking forward to today.” He twists his fists in Yamaguchi’s sweater, the close contact with his partner the only thing that’s keeping him grounded. “I’m such a mess. You deserve better.”

Yamaguchi cups Kenma’s face in their hands, sweeping their thumbs along his cheekbones and purses their lips, eyes serious. “Alright. Would I have had a great time watching the lights with you? Yes. Would I have felt horrible for pushing you completely out of your comfort zone just because you think that’s what a normal boyfriend should do? Hell yes.” They lean in and press a quick, firm kiss to Kenma’s lips before pulling back slightly and brushing their noses together. “So please don’t ever tell me that you’re a disappointment or that you let me down or, god forbid, that I should be with anyone besides you.”

Kenma’s cheeks pink and he can’t stop his lips from curling up into a smile and presses his face against Yamaguchi to hide it. Yamaguchi giggles and Kenma savors the sound, feeling the last of his anxiety unwind. He knows it will be back again, probably sooner rather than later, but for now he just relaxes into Yamaguchi, tangling their legs together and enjoying the feeling that their bodies were made for each other. 

“So was it fun?” he murmurs, tipping his head back to press a feather-light kiss against Yamaguchi’s jaw, eliciting a small, contented noise from his partner.

“Yeah,” they murmur, rubbing their thumb along the sensitive spot behind Kenma’s ear before dipping down to capture Kenma’s lips in a slow, lazy kiss. “Not as much fun as this, though,” they say teasingly, grinning at the slight whine that escapes Kenma’s lips as they part.

“I wish I could have gone with you. I’m gonna try and do better,” Kenma promises, voice serious.

“I know. And thank you,” they smile, eyes sparkling. “Oh, hey! Actually...I recorded the show for you,” they pat around for their phone, finally finding it shoved somehow under a pillow. “Do you want to watch it?”

Kenma nods happily and Yamaguchi sits up, pulling Kenma over into their lap and resting their head on his shoulder as they cue up the video. Momo, happy with this new arrangement, curls up in Kenma’s lap and immediately starts purring as he nudges his face under Kenma’s hand. 

And it’s here, curled up with his partner and his kitten, watching the lights dance and sparkle on Yamaguchi’s phone screen that Kenma feels, for the first time in a long time, fully comfortable, safe, and at home.


	14. Ice: Kageyama/Hinata/Yachi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some KageHinaYachi sweetness. 
> 
> I'm so addicted to writing these poly ships, it's not even funny. This fandom has ruined me!

Kageyama leans on the low fencing surrounding the outdoor ice rink with a small smile on his face. It amazes him to watch them skate together. They told him they could skate, that they went all the time as kids, but it still blows his mind that someone as lacking in self-control as Hinata and as riddled with anxiety as Yachi could look so graceful and, for lack of a better term, _beautiful_ out there. 

He hasn’t been able to take his eyes off them since they entered the rink with his promise that he’d join them later. Yachi’s blonde hair streams out behind her and she’s wearing the huge pink scarf Hinata bought her for Christmas and then couldn’t actually wait until Christmas to give her. Hinata’s orange hair is vibrant as ever, curls fluffy and out of control, but his smile is even brighter. He and Yachi are hand in hand, swerving around other couples and dozens of over-excited children with ease. 

His smile widens when they come his way once again and Yachi skids to an impressive stop, spraying ice in Hinata’s face.

“Sorry!” she giggles behind her hand as Hinata pouts and brushes the ice out of his hair. 

“Nicely done, ‘Toka,” Kageyama murmurs, holding out a hand to her. She beams and takes his hand, pulling herself the short distance over the ice, and taking advantage of his hunched stance to lean forward to peck a kiss on his cheek. Kageyama, in turn, takes advantage of his superior reflexes to turn his head at the last moment and catch her pretty pink lips with his. She lets out a surprised squeak and he huffs out a laugh. 

It doesn’t matter how long they have been together- Yachi is almost always caught off-guard by any show of playfulness or public affection from her more stoic partner. And to be truthful, it’s taken Kageyama quite a long time to get comfortable with it himself, but the sparkle in her brown eyes and the blinding grin on Hinata’s face makes it completely worth the effort.

Kageyama glances over at Hinata and is amused to see the redhead is looking between the two of them, arms folded over his chest, lips pursed in an exaggerated pout. “C’mere, dumbass,” he says, making a grab for his boyfriend’s scarf and fitting him between Yachi and himself. A happy hum escapes Hinata’s lips as both of his partners simultaneously lay a soft kiss on each of his cheeks. It’s disgustingly sappy, but when they pull away Hinata’s face is the picture of contentment so, worth it.

“Yamayama, are you going to skate with us?” Hinata’s eyes are wide and pleading.

“Er…”

“Please, Tobio?” Yachi’s gaze mirrors Hinata’s and Kageyama can feel his resolve cracking, just a little.

“I don’t-”

“You don’t know how to skate?” Hinata interrupts.

“I didn’t say that, dumbass!”

“Oh! So you do know how to ice skate?”

“N-not exactly,” he mutters, cheeks burning. 

“Well why didn’t you just say so?” Yachi bursts out, gripping his wrist. “We’ll teach you!”

Kageyama considers for a moment. As loathe as he is to let Hinata teach him anything, he’s even more loathe to allow the fact that Hinata can do something that he himself can’t pass. And Yachi _is_ a good teacher if his final exam scores are anything to go by. And he’s athletic. He’s got great hand-eye coordination and strong thighs and is quick on his feet, so really there’s no reason he shouldn’t be able to pick up this skill quickly.

Except, as it turns out, none of those things matter when you’re standing on knife shoes in the middle of a frozen lake. Or, more accurately, wearing knife shoes and laying flat on your back in the middle of a frozen lake.

Yachi and Hinata appear over him and he bites back the string of curses running through his head as they help him to his feet. Again.

“I don’t think these skates fit,” he mumbles, gripping each of their hands tightly.

“I checked the size three times, Tobio,” Yachi murmurs, squeezing his hand lightly and keeping a steadying hand on his upper arm. 

“Yeah, maybe you just suck,” Hinata snickers, then lets out a pained yelp as Kageyama clenches his hand maybe a little too tightly.

“Sho!” Yachi scolds. “Don’t listen to him, you’re doing great.”

Kageyama grits his teeth and tries to steady himself on the blades, puffing out an annoyed breath as he feels his ankles start to tremble unsteadily again. He wasn’t used to feeling this unsteady, this lack of control, and it disturbed him.

“Yachi’s right. You really are doing a good job for your first time,” Hinata’s cheerful smile is back and he is looking up at Kageyama with eyes so full of pride it makes Kageyama’s chest hurt a little. “I mean, the first full month I was out on the ice, I couldn’t go more than a foot at a time without ending up ass over teakettle.”

Kageyama snorts and rolls his eyes. Somehow he thinks that’s not exactly true and that Hinata is just trying to make him feel better but, whatever. It’s working.

“Let’s go once more around,” Yachi suggests brightly, “and then Sho and I will treat you to hot chocolate!”

Kageyama glances at Hinata who nods in enthusiastic agreement. 

“Alright,” he sighs, allowing Yachi and Hinata to pull him forward on the ice once more, “but I’m getting extra whipped cream.”


	15. Celebrate: Kuroo/Tsukishima

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KuroTsukki
> 
> Yep, it's a two-fer day! And alllll fluff to make up for some of the angst I put y'all through recently. ;)
> 
> Also, no, of course I didn't cry while I wrote this. (That's a lie, I did cry. I am way too emotionally attached to these characters- especially Tsukki- it's a problem.)

The smell of fried rice hits Tsukishima in the face as soon as he steps through the front door. He frowns, kicking his shoes off and shrugging out of his jacket as he makes his way to the kitchen. The small dining table is already set and Kuroo is standing by the stove, filling two plates with fried rice and dumplings, the very picture of domesticity. He turns, plates in hand, and his eyes light up when he sees Tsukishima leaned against the doorway watching him. 

“Good timing, Tsukki!” he crows, smile blinding. “Dinner’s ready. Sit!”

“I thought I was supposed to cook tonight,” Tsukishima murmurs as he seats himself at the table. “You didn’t even let me set the table.” 

Kuroo shrugs, cheeks going a little pink. He produces a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses and sits across from Tsukishima. “Just figured I’d change it up a little. Keep you on your toes, you know?”

Tsukishima quirks an eyebrow at the glass of wine that’s been placed in front of him, but doesn’t protest. It’s been a long day and if he gets a night off from kitchen duties and good wine out of the deal, he’s not going to complain. 

“How was your day?”

“Annoying,” Tsukishima answers around a mouthful of rice. “They finally hired my replacement. That little redheaded toddler is going to be the death of me.” He scrunches up his nose in distaste, remembering the neverending barrage of questions he had to answer all day and dreading the next few days he has to spend with Hinata until he gets to officially start in his management position.

Kuroo huffs out a laugh at the look on his boyfriend’s face. “M’sorry,” he smiles, reaching over and clasping Tsukishima’s hand. “I’m sure you’ll whip him into shape in no time,” he laughs and the blonde relaxes slightly, lips curving up into a slight smile. 

Kuroo recounts his day as they eat- he was off, the lucky bastard- spent with Bokuto and Akaashi. “Bo’s a nervous wreck and Akaashi is hardcore nesting,” he laughs. “We moved that damn crib six times before he decided the first place we had it was best. And once we got that settled, I had to help fold all the clothes they got at the shower and put them away. Can you imagine? Me? Folding baby socks?”

Tsukishima cracks a grin. “That’s actually quite a cute image,” he says, finishing his glass of wine. “I’m sorry I missed it.”

Kuroo pouts as he clears away the empty dishes. Tsukishima moves to help clean up, but is stopped by a sudden hand on his shoulder. “Wait! We have dessert,” Kuroo says, opening the fridge and coming back to the table with a plate of strawberry shortcake which he proceeds to douse with whipped cream, just the way Tsukishima likes it.

Tsukishima’s eyes narrow, once again suspicious. The dinner, the wine, and now his literal favorite food on earth for dessert? Something is definitely up.

“What did you do?” 

Kuroo gasps and clasps a hand to his chest in mock offense. “What? Nothing! I can’t do something nice for my boyfriend?”

“Only if you’ve done something wrong, you want something, or we’re celebrating,” Tsukishima ticks off the reasons on his fingers.

“Well, I haven’t done anything bad since Bo and I broke the shelf playing volleyball in the house. And Christmas is coming, so there isn’t any reason for me to butter you up to buy me anything now, is there?”

Tsukishima eyes Kuroo steadily, spearing a strawberry on his fork popping it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. Kuroo does look nervous, but it’s not his “I’m-nervous-because-I’m-lying” face. Tsukishima can see through that one easily by this point. He tries to think of any important dates or events they have happening and nothing springs to mind as occasion for all this effort on Kuroo’s part.

He purses his lips. “Alright, then,” he says, giving up, “what are we celebrating?”

“Uh, your promotion?”

“You took me to dinner for that two weeks ago,” Tsukishima deadpans. “Next.”

“Uhhhh…’Kaashi’s birthday?” 

“Ten days ago. Also we would not be celebrating Akaashi’s birthday without him, would we?” He quirks an eyebrow. “The truth, please.”

Kuroo huffs out a defeated breath and chews his lip. His face is paler than usual and Tsukishima can feel his leg bouncing under the table and now he’s getting really suspicious. He’s never seen Kuroo like this before. Sure he’s been anxious about exams, keyed up before a big game, but never...this. 

“Then I guess we’re celebrating…” Kuroo reaches into his shirt pocket and suddenly he’s kneeling next to Tsukishima and Tsukishima’s heart is about to hammer out of his chest and the blood is rushing in his ears because this literally cannot be happening, there’s no way he’s this lucky. “...our engagement?” Kuroo finishes, holding out a shaking hand to show him a small black ring, shiny and elegant in its simplicity.

“Tetsuro,” Tsukishima breathes, because he isn’t sure he can say much else without losing his mind. He lays a hand on Kuroo’s cheek because he just needs to touch the other man to ground him, to make sure that he’s not dreaming.

Kuroo blinks up at Tsukishima through thick, dark lashes and smiles. “What do you say, Tsukki? Marry me?”

“Of course, dummy,” he says, voice disgustingly thick with emotion as he pulls his boyfriend- no, _fiance_ \- towards him for a heated kiss. He laughs as they break apart and Kuroo lets out a victory whoop and slips the ring on his finger.

It’s a perfect fit.


	16. Shopping: Oikawa/Sugawara

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suga/Oikawa - Suga is having holiday panic and Oikawa is trying to be the voice of reason
> 
> I struggled with this one a little and it didn't turn out quite how I anticipated, but here we are. I do enjoy Oikawa having to be the supportive, rational one for once since we all know that these two are both dramatic hot messes!

Oikawa leans on the shopping cart and watches Suga carefully inspect two nearly-identical bags of apples. He’s chewing on his bottom lip and his brow is furrowed in concentration and his silver hair is sticking up a little crazily from constantly running his hands through it as they move around the produce section. Oikawa is content to just look at his very cute, though extremely frazzled, boyfriend for two full minutes before speaking up.

“Are you planning on buying one of those or are you trying to mind-meld with them?” he grins when Suga whips his head around, eyes wide as though he had forgotten Oikawa was even there. It would be annoying if it weren’t so adorable.

“Oh, uh, yeah. I was just trying to figure out which ones were best. For apple pie,” Suga’s cheeks are pink with embarrassment and he shrugs. “Your mom does like apple pie, right?”

Oikawa laughs lightly and snatches one of the bags out of Suga’s hands, placing it in the shopping cart. “Yes, for the hundredth time, she loves apple pie.”

Suga purses his lips and takes one last look at the bag of apples in his hand before huffing out a breath and switching them out, placing the one that Oikawa had put in the cart back in the bin. 

“What next?” Oikawa asks brightly, ignoring the fact that Suga doesn’t trust him to pick out apples for god’s sake. He’s trying to be the calm, supportive one for once which, he has enough self-awareness to admit, is quite the role-reversal.

Suga’s tongue is sticking out a little as his large brown eyes scan the shopping list. The sight makes Oikawa’s heart flutter almost as much as the sight of the list he’s holding, which only has a few items left unchecked. Especially considering the amount of time they have already spent in the grocery store on their rare shared day off.

“Potatoes,” Suga finally states and they move an entire three feet to the bins of potatoes. “What do you think, Tooru? Roasted or smashed?” Suga’s eyes are flicking back and forth between the two bags of potatoes in his hands and Oikawa feels a weird sense of deja-vu. 

“I think either will be just fine, Kou,” he tries. Apparently this is the wrong answer.

“I don’t want it to be ‘just fine,’” Suga pouts, dropping both bags of potatoes into their respective bins and fishing out a third to look at. “It needs to be,” he shrugs, “perfect, I guess.”

Oikawa can’t help it. He laughs.

“What?” Suga snaps, startled and a little annoyed by his boyfriend’s sudden burst of laughter.

“Sorry,” Oikawa says after a moment and takes Suga’s hand, pulling him a little closer. He takes the bag of potatoes and places them in the cart with a smile. “I’m just not used to you being the overdramatic perfectionist in this relationship.”

Suga huffs out an irritated breath, but allows himself to relax a little at Oikawa's touch. "Guess you're rubbing off on me, then. Though, for the record I don't think being concerned with the quality of the first holiday dinner we're hosting for our families is me being overdramatic…"

“Koushi, it’s going to be great, I promise. My mom and sister adore you and we both know your parents have been bugging you to lock all of this,” Oikawa gestures dramatically at himself, “down for well over a year.” 

“True,” Suga laughs, leaning his head on Oikawa’s shoulder.

“Exactly,” Oikawa presses a brief kiss to the top of Suga’s ruffled hair. “So what are you so worried about?”

Suga sighs. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s just a lot. Living up to expectations...I know how much your family, especially your mom, loves hosting and I just worry that she’ll think I’m trying to take over? Or like, it won’t have been worth it? And then to have my parents in the mix it’s just...I don’t know. I’m just...” he trails off.

Oikawa chews his bottom lip and considers his response carefully. Because, honestly, Suga is right. He comes from money and his parents are show-offs, always have been. They like to do the holidays big and they love the picture-perfect meal and decorations and everything that Suga’s not used to. And he can see how it’s intimidating- he remembers how overwhelmed Suga was the first year he brought his boyfriend home to his family for Christmas.

“I know it’s a lot,” he says, “but it’s never perfect. Not even close. You’ve only ever seen the end result,” he waves a hand dismissively. “The experience is the important thing. I can guarantee my dad never shopped as patiently with my mom as yours truly does with you,” he winks, earning a laugh from his boyfriend. “It’s going to be great. I promise. And I’m going to be there to help you the whole time.”

Suga hums. “That would be comforting if you were any use at all in the kitchen.”

“Excuse you, I happen to be an excellent taste-tester!”

Suga snorts, rolling his eyes, and pushes the cart towards the frozen section to finish up their shopping. “I’ll keep that in mind when I’m making that brussels sprouts dish my dad likes so much,” he calls over his shoulder

Oikawa pouts, but scampers to catch up to Suga, linking their arms. “You’re so cruel to me, Suga.”

“Must be another way you rubbed off on me,” Suga says, tipping his head up to place a soft kiss at the corner of Oikawa’s mouth. The pout slides off his face, replaced with a contented smile. “Thank you for calming me down, Tooru.”

“Anytime, Koushi,” he responds, bumping his hip against Suga’s lightly. “Now let’s finish this up and get home so I can spend the rest of the day calming you down in other ways,” he says with a cheeky grin.

Suga doesn’t dignify that line with a response, but his smile widens and there’s a mischievous glint in his sweet brown eyes that tells Oikawa all he needs to know.


	17. Pajamas: Kuroo/Kenma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm not dead and I haven't abandoned you! I've just been super sick the last few days and have fallen WAY behind. But I'm feeling better and should have some time to crank out some writing this weekend. I may not finish all 25 chapters by Christmas day, but I will finish them this month!
> 
> Anyway, here's some KuroKen!
> 
> Still taking ship requests/suggestions. I have 3 (maybe 4) of the remaining 8 planned, so I still have plenty of room!

Kuroo sighs heavily as he enters the apartment he shares with his best friend, grimacing at how quiet the place is. Not that Kenma’s a loud person per se, but he can usually at least hear the sounds of whatever video game he’s playing at the time or the quiet _click click click_ of his keyboard as he works on his laptop. But tonight, there’s nothing.

Kuroo’s disappointed, but not surprised. He was supposed to be home four hours ago, but right as he was gathering his stuff together, a massive stack of files was dropped on his desk and his boss asked (in that I’m-asking-but-you-don’t-really-have-a-choice-if-you-want-to-keep-your-job kind of way) him to finish them up before he headed home for the weekend. And as disappointed as he is to have his weekend away from work delayed by four hours, he’s even more disappointed that he’s missed out on precious time with Kenma. Because it all, always, comes back to wanting to spend every waking moment with Kenma.

He peers in the fridge, not so much looking for something for himself, but to check the state of the leftovers available. It doesn’t look like Kenma’s touched them which, again, doesn’t entirely surprise Kuroo. He makes a mental note to set his alarm for early enough that he can cook (and force Kenma to eat) breakfast tomorrow. For now, he grabs a beer out of the fridge with the intention of flopping on the couch to unwind with some mindless television before passing out. He’s exhausted, but his mind is still too keyed up from work and without Kenma to keep him company, crappy sitcom re-runs will have to do.

He moves to the living room, loosening his tie as he goes, but stops short when he spies the soft glow of the television illuminating the figure on the couch. His breath hitches and his pulse quickens when he realizes that Kenma, sprawled out like the kitten he is, face half-buried under a mess of blonde hair, is drowning in one of Kuroo’s flannel pajama shirts. Kuroo can’t see Kenma’s hands where they are drawn up in the sleeves of the black and red plaid shirt and his chin is partially tucked into the collar, though he can still see his friend’s pink lips parted sweetly in his sleep.

And, okay, maybe he’s not exactly _drowning_ in the shirt because everything from Kenma’s mid-thigh down is on full display, slender, pale legs that drive Kuroo crazy no matter how many times he’s seen them. And he knows he shouldn’t stand in the doorway like a creep and watch Kenma sleep, but the sight of the boy he has loved since high school so sprawled out and open and vulnerable in a way so few people get the privilege to see him has completely overwhelmed him and he can’t move.

And then Kenma stirs, shifts, and opens his eyes blearily and Kuroo’s heart jumps into his throat and he almost drops his still unopened beer.

“Kuro?” Kenma’s voice is thick and rough with sleep and he blinks, slow, trying to get his bearings.

For his part, Kuroo awkwardly turns in a circle in the doorway in a ridiculous attempt to be casual and pretend like he wasn’t just ogling his best friend while he slept. Like he’s a functioning human being instead of a pathetic, gay mess who goes near-comotose at he sight of his crush in that too-big pajama shirt.

Somehow, he remembers how to breathe and he steps into the living room. “Hey, kitten,” he says. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Kenma squints as he checks the time on his phone and hums. “You’re home late.”

Kuroo sighs, settling himself on the floor in front of the couch, using the edge of the coffee table to pop his beer open. He takes a swig and leans his head back onto the cushion, huffing out a laugh when Kenma moves closer to give him a gentle headbutt.

“I got tired of waiting for you,” Kenma mumbles, resting his head on Kuroo’s shoulder.

A contented hum escapes Kuroo’s mouth and he relaxes under the weight of Kenma’s head tucked into his shoulder. “You’re affectionate tonight,” he smiles. “You didn’t have to wait up for me, though, you know.”

“Missed you,” is Kenma’s only response, but those two words murmured low against his shoulder is enough to send Kuroo’s heart into overdrive. His skin is buzzing just from the sheer proximity to Kenma and he’s positive the other man can feel the way his pulse is jumping frantically in his neck. 

And it isn’t like they haven’t been physically close before- there’s a long history of sleepovers, shared futons, affectionate hugs and fleeting touches that only Kuroo can get away with. But there’s something so much more intimate about the way they’re sitting here, lit by the blue glow of the muted television with Kenma sleepily buried in his shoulder mumbling words like missed you against his skin. 

“You just saw me this morning, kitten.” Kuroo smiles and reaches a hand up, threading it through tangled black-and-blonde locks. He’s going for a teasing, playful tone, but his tongue feels too heavy in his mouth and the words come out husky and soft.

Kenma just hums noncommittally, but Kuroo can feel his lips turn down in a pout and wants nothing more than to just turn and kiss them until they’re smiling. At least, as close to smiling as Kenma ever gets, that is.

“In passing,” he mutters petulantly. “Doesn’t count.”

“Don’t worry,” Kuroo laughs lightly, “Lucky for you, I don’t have any plans this weekend. I’m all yours.”

“Good,” Kenma says. Even though Kuroo knows that he’s not outwardly smiling, the fact that he can hear the smile in Kenma’s voice is enough to plaster a dumb grin on Kuroo’s face that he’s really glad Kenma can’t see from his current position.

A few moments of comfortable silence pass. Kuroo finishes his beer and wonders vaguely if Kenma has fallen back asleep and how he's going to manage to slip out from under his friend and carry him to his bed without waking him. Then Kenma lifts his head off Kuroo’s shoulder and breaks the silence.

“Hey, Tetsurou?”

Kuroo starts at the sound of his given name and turns his head, a question poised on his lips, but Kenma steals the opportunity to ask it by pressing his lips against his. All the words on the tip of Kuroo’s tongue fall right out of his head and his eyes flutter closed as he melts into the kiss and when Kenma’s tongue tentatively nudges against Kuroo’s parted lips and gain entry, Kuroo sees stars behind his closed eyes. It’s everything he’s wanted for the last fifteen years and more than even his wildest dreams would lead him to believe. Because this is real. It’s him and it’s Kenma and it’s real and it’s actually happening. 

They pull apart and even after Kuroo takes a moment to catch his breath, he’s still dizzy and his head is a little fuzzy and he feels drunker than one beer could ever make him. “Kenma, what…?” he trails off uselessly, unsure what he even wants to ask. 

Kenma's lips quirk up in a small, content smile and he bumps his head against Kuroo's again, like a cat showing affection. "I got tired of waiting for you," he murmurs.


	18. Mistletoe: Daichi/Oikawa/Kuroo/Bokuto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda loving this captain squad of Daichi/Oikawa/Kuroo/Bokuto. 
> 
> This is another one that may call for a follow-up smut fest. ;)

Daichi drops his bag at the apartment door and is immediately suspicious. He’s used to the chaos that comes with three boyfriends with one shared brain cell, but today it’s too quiet. There is still noise- he can hear the shower running and the low hum of the television and someone is in the kitchen rummaging through the cabinets. But he’s used to coming home to loud laughter, wrestling matches in the living room, or just being immediately pulled into whatever the latest argument happens to be upon entering the apartment.

So the quiet is...unsettling...to say the least. Maybe it’s their Christmas gift to him- silent night and all that. 

Either way, it makes him more suspicious than ever.

“Oh, Sawa-chan, you’re home!” Oikawa appears, brown eyes sparkling. 

Daichi hums and starts to move into the apartment, but Oikawa stops him with a hand on his wrist. He tilts his chin up and when Daichi glances overhead he sees a small green bundle of leaves dotted with red berries suspended from the ceiling with a bright red ribbon. “Mistletoe, really?” he rolls his eyes.

“Rules are rules, Sawa-chan!” Oikawa sing-songs and steps forward for a kiss. Daichi obliges him with little protest, going so far as to cup the taller man’s face gently and swipe his calloused thumbs over the soft skin of his jaw. Oikawa sighs into the kiss when Daichi thumbs over the sensitive skin behind his ear and Daichi takes the opening to swipe his tongue briefly over Oikawa’s bottom lip before the taller pulls away.

“Can I go now?” he grumbles when Oikawa pulls back, his typical self-satisfied smirk on his face. Daichi knows the flush of his cheeks betrays him, but he has to at least attempt to keep up appearances. It’s bad for Oikawa’s ego to know how easily he can wind Daichi up with just a simple kiss. 

“I think Kuro-chan needs your help in the kitchen,” Oikawa smiles, picking up Daichi’s bag from the floor and hanging it up for him. 

“He isn’t trying to cook again, is he?” Daichi sighs, but Oikawa merely responds by swatting Daichi’s butt and quickly dancing out of his reach.

He approaches the kitchen warily and is stopped in his tracks by the tallest of the four boyfriends casually leaning on the doorframe. Well, Kuroo’s definition of “casual” anyway, which consists of a very practiced hand-on-hip pose. 

“What’s-” his question is cut off by Kuroo looking pointedly up and when Daichi follows his gaze he sees another green-and-red bundle tucked in the corner of the doorframe. “Really?” he repeats his earlier question, but Kuroo simply shrugs and ducks his head toward Daichi, capturing his lips.

Kuroo’s kiss is much less soft and gentle than Oikawa’s, but no less satisfying. Kuroo presses Daichi to him with a strong hand at the small of his back and nibbles at his lower lip, pulling small, contented noises from Daichi’s throat and swallowing them up with every movement of his lips. 

And then Kuroo pulls away and Daichi lets out a frustrated huff. 

“Yeah, I don’t actually need your help in here,” Kuroo drawls, placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

“Yeah, no, I got that,” Daichi huffs out a laugh as he leans up towards Kuroo for another kiss.

“IS DAICHI HOME?” Bokuto’s loud voice comes from the vicinity of the bathroom and Kuroo throws his head back and lets out his patented hyena cackle. 

“What the fuck is my life?” Daichi sighs as he makes his way toward the bathroom, pausing at the hall closet to grab a towel. Bokuto is infamous in their little apartment for wandering around naked because he constantly forgets to take his towel into the bathroom with him.

Not that any of them really complain.

“Hey, hey, hey, Dai!” Bokuto crows when Daichi turns the corner to see him standing in the doorway. His face is the picture of innocent excitement the way it always is when one of his boyfriends comes home, all bright gold eyes and wide grin. At the moment, though, Daichi is a little distracted by the towel (Daichi is impressed, if slightly disappointed, that he remembered it today) slung low on his hips and his wet hair dripping water down his broad shoulders. 

Bokuto is much less subtle than Oikawa and Kuroo, simply pointing up excitedly where, to Daichi’s absolute lack of surprise, there is yet another bundle of mistletoe suspended from the ceiling. “You know I’m your guys’ boyfriend right? You don’t have to seduce me with mistletoe. And where the hell did you get-” Daichi starts, but any plant-related questions swiftly die on his tongue with the first press of Bokuto’s lips against his.

Where Oikawa is soft and Kuroo is teasing, Bokuto’s kisses are eager and demanding. His tongue is in Daichi’s mouth in a flash, sliding against Daichi’s and running against the roof of his mouth. One of Bo’s hands rucks up Daichi’s shirt, untucking it from his jeans, and slides underneath, pressing his body close to Bokuto’s while the other tangles in Daichi’s short hair, holding him close while he practically sucks his soul out through is mouth.

Not that Daichi’s complaining. At least, not until Bokuto pulls away.

“Oh, hell no,” he murmurs, hooking a finger in the towel around Bokuto’s waist and dragging him toward their bedroom. 

Bo’s grin threatens to split his face in half as he calls out, “Guys, you better get in here!” as he’s hauled through the doorway and pushed bodily onto the bed.

Daichi listens to the calls of “Ohoho!” and “Bo-chan, wait for us!” and the scrambling that ensues, noting with amusement the bundle of mistletoe hanging over their bed.


	19. Tradition: Kenma/Hinata/Kageyama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kenma/Hinata/Kageyama
> 
> I kind of...love these three together? I didn't fully expect to, but it really works for me for some reason!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Hinata is fairly certain he could die happy in his current position. He’s cuddled into the couch, tucked into Kenma’s side, head resting on the blonde’s chest while their much taller boyfriend is curled around the two of them. It’s nights like this that he’s glad Tobio pushed for the extra-wide cushions on their sectional because, even though it was hell getting the thing into their apartment, the evenings they’ve since spent curled up on it have been well worth the trouble.

But even though Hinata is perfectly content curled up on the couch with his boyfriends, he can’t keep his mind from going a million miles an hour, especially since the holidays are fast approaching. And with his mind racing, he can’t concentrate on whatever movie they’re watching. And when he can’t concentrate, he gets...twitchy.

“Hey, dumbass,” Kageyama pokes the restless redhead in the thigh, lifting his head from where it’s pillowed on his arm and glaring at him. “Quit fidgeting.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, dragging his eyes back to the TV.

“Sho,” Kenma murmurs as Hinata lapses immediately back into fidget-mode. “What’s wrong?”

Hinata’s large brown eyes flick back and forth between the two of them. Both are staring at him expectantly, and once again Hinata is struck by how well they know him, how perceptive they are to his moods. Not that Hinata’s not generally an open book, but they both so easily see the difference between his nervous fidgeting, his bored fidgeting, and his something-on-my-mind fidgeting that it makes his heart swell up a little in his chest.

He sighs, resting his head back on Kenma’s chest. “I was just thinking about Christmas eve.”

“Again?” Kageyama asks with a barely restrained roll of his deep blue eyes. “I thought we talked about this already.”

Hinata sighs again. “I know, we did, but I just can’t help but feel like we should be doing more this year!”

“More than cuddling on the couch and watching _Die Hard_?”

Kageyama lifts his head with a frown. “I thought we were going to watch _The Muppets Christmas Carol_ on Christmas eve. _Die Hard_ isn’t even a Christmas movie.”

Kenma quirks an eyebrow at his boyfriend. “It takes place on Christmas eve. During a Christmas party. It features classic Christmas music. It-”

“Gah, not the point, you two!” Hinata interrupts Kenma’s familiar rant. There are few things that Kenma is willing to talk extensively about. One is video games. Another happens to be the merits of Die Hard as a Christmas classic. 

Hinata draws his knees up to his chest and rests his head on them. “It’s just that it’s our first Christmas all together. As partners. I just want to make sure it’s special.”

Kageyama sits up and pulls Hinata into his lap and tucks Kenma into his side. “You don’t think it already will be special?”

“That’s not what I mean,” Hinata grumbles, pushing his face into the crook of Kageyama’s neck and twisting his fingers in the sleeve of Kenma’s too-large sweatshirt. Their closeness grounds him and he’s able to let his thoughts tumble out freely. “I just...you’re used to the big extended-family home cooked dinner thing and Kenma always spends Christmas eve kicking Kuroo’s and his cousins’ asses at Smash Bros. and I just don’t want this,” he gestures vaguely, “to be a let-down. You know, since we’re not doing the big traditional Christmas...thing…” he trails off.

A moment passes, then Kageyama barks out a laugh. “You really are so stupid sometimes, Shouyou.”

“Whaa-?” he draws back from Kageyama and Kenma lets out a quiet huff of laughter at the redhead’s indignance.

“I think,” Kenma says, cupping a hand around Hinata’s cheek and tilting his head to face him, “what Tobio means is that if we wanted the ‘big traditional Christmas thing,’ we would do it.” He leans forward and places a soft kiss on the corner of Hinata’s mouth, then draws back with a smile.

“Yeah, stupid,” Kageyama agrees, bumping his forehead against Hinata’s. “Besides, look at us...there’s nothing traditional about any aspect of this relationship, so why should our Christmas be?”

Hinata hums an agreement, relaxing into the warmth of the two men surrounding him. “You’re right,” he murmurs, pointedly ignoring Kageyama’s snort. “Yeah, we’ll just start our own traditions. We’ll watch movies and maybe I can cook-”

“Hell no,” Kageyama and Kenma say in unison, cutting off that dangerous train of thought before it ends in another kitchen fire. 

“Fine,” Hinata pouts. “Movies. Cuddles. Takeout.” He considers this for a moment before adding, “Blanket fort.”

“Blanket fort?” Kageyama stares blankly at his boyfriends. Hinata’s eyes are shining with excitement and Kenma just bites back an affectionate smile as he watches the wheels in Hinata’s head turn.

“Yeah! Otherwise it’s just a regular Friday night for us. The annual Christmas blanket fort can be our holiday tradition.”

Kageyama sighs, pressing a soft kiss to Hinata’s temple, then one to the top of Kenma’s blonde head. “Fine. Movies, cuddles, takeout, and a blanket fort.” 

“You know,” Kenma pipes up softly, pushing his face into the crook of Kageyama’s shoulder in a poor attempt at masking a mischievous smile. “I could kick both of your asses at Smash Bros. just as easily as Kuroo’s if you want. For tradition’s sake.” 

“Pass,” Kageyama deadpans as Hinata dissolves into giggles, overcome with the little bubbles of happiness that fill his chest at the prospect of the first of many Christmases surrounded by these two men.


	20. Star: Tsukishima/Yamaguchi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some TsukkiYama sweetness.
> 
> Once again, my sweet baby Tsukki is miserable. 
> 
> Sorry! ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

“Hey, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi’s voice carries across the rooftop where Tsukishima is stretched out on a blanket, staring up at the night sky. Tsukishima can barely hear them over the music blaring through his headphones, but he senses their approach.

Tsukishima doesn’t respond, but he removes his headphones and scoots over a little on the blanket, leaving room for Yamaguchi. They move carefully, laying down next to their best friend. He doesn’t say anything, but Yamaguchi can feel how tense his body is. They want nothing more than to gather the blonde up in their arms, to kiss him senseless and make sure he knows that he’s really, truly loved. But they can’t risk the closest friendship they’ve ever had, so they just lay still, regretfully leaving a couple of inches of space between their bodies. 

“Bad night?” Yamaguchi asks.

Tsukishima shrugs. 

“I saw your mom take off,” Yamaguchi says gently.

“Yeah,” Tsukishima’s voice is rough, the way it always is when Yamaguchi finds him perched on his roof at night. “She’s staying with Aunt Niko for a few days,” he shrugs again. “Or a few weeks. Who knows how long it will be this time.”

Yamaguchi doesn’t push for further details. They don’t need to- years of living next door to the Tsukishimas has made them privy to nearly every aspect of his best friend’s home life whether he wanted to share that part of himself or not. By this point, Yamaguchi knows it’s a relief for Tsukki to not have to explain. Yamaguchi just knows and understands and certain things don’t need to be spoken between the two of them and that’s what makes their friendship so easy.

So instead of pressing Tsukishima to talk about what happened between his parents tonight, they just turn to their friend with a bright smile and ask, “Can you show me the constellations again?”

Tsukishima’s lips quirk up in a slight smile and Yamaguchi’s breath catches in their throat when he reaches over to clasp their hand in his and point up at the sky. “There’s Perseus,” he murmurs. He moves their hands slightly to the right and points again. “And Andromeda right next to him, see?”

Yamaguchi hums a small contented noise as they listen to Tsukishima name off all the constellations they can see from his rooftop. Their hand feels all tingly where Tsukki’s fingers are threaded through theirs and despite the chill of the night air, they feel warm all over. They watch Tsukishima out of the corner of their eye and, as always, are struck by just how beautiful he looks, fair skin and blonde hair lit by the glow of the stars, small, genuine smile on his face that only Yamaguchi ever gets the privilege of seeing.

They clear their throat in an attempt to make sure their voice doesn’t come out to high or breathy. “Which constellation is your favorite, Tsukki?”

Tsukishima turns to look at Yamaguchi. The starlight is glinting off his glasses, but Yamaguchi can still make out his golden eyes, warm with affection and stunning in their intensity. He doesn’t release Yamaguchi’s hand, instead gripping it a little tighter, causing Yamguchi’s pulse to jump in their throat. “Do you remember when we were kids and we couldn’t find the actual constellations, so we would just make up our own?”

Yamaguchi huffs out a laugh. “How could I forget ‘Dog Riding Unicycle’?”

“Or ‘Moose Wearing One Boot’?” 

“What about ‘Katsudon and Ice Cream Cone’?”

“I think you were really hungry the night you named that one,” Tsukishima snorts.

“Hm. Probably,” Yamaguchi bites back a smile. “So which of our made-up constellations is your favorite?”

Tsukishima carefully disentangles their hands and turns on his side propping his head up on his hand, face suddenly serious. Yamaguchi mirrors him, their dark eyes unable to look away from the blonde. Tsukki’s free hand reaches towards Yamaguchi’s face, hesitating for a brief moment before tracing a curve along the smattering of freckles over their cheeks. “This one,” he murmurs, gold eyes following the movement of his fingers. “It’s a crescent moon.”

Yamaguchi lets out a shaky breath they didn’t even realize they were holding. Their skin feels like it’s on fire where Tsukishima’s touching their face and their heart is thudding erratically. “Tsukki-”

“Tadashi, I-” Tsukishima starts, then closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, collecting his thoughts. “I just want you to know…” Tsukishima’s fingers move gently down Yamaguchi’s jawline, his gold eyes flickering intensely across their face and they can’t hold back the shiver that runs through their body. “Just...thank you. For always being here. Every time I need you.”

Yamaguchi leans into the touch of Tsukishima’s hand and smiles softly. “You know you don’t need to thank me for that,” they say with a sigh. The feeling of Tsukishima’s long fingers grazing gently over their face, mapping out patterns over their freckles, stroking along their jaw, makes them feel a little drunk and a lot bolder. So just this once, they decide to push. “But is that really what you wanted to say to me?” 

Tsukishima frowns and, for a brief moment, Yamaguchi wonders if they misread the entire situation terribly, but then the lines on Tsukki’s face smooth out and he scoots a little closer, pressing their foreheads together and, sucking in a big gulp of cool night air, he finally lets the words tumble out. 

“Tadashi, I love you.”

“I love you too, Tsukki,” they murmur, leaning in and closing the gap between their lips.


	21. Office Party: Ushijima/Tendou

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to keep you waiting! I really wanted to finish up by Christmas, but my new goal is to have them all done by New Year's Eve, so hopefully I can keep to that. Things have just been c r a z y so I hope you can forgive me for being MIA the past few days! 
> 
> I do want to write one more proposal so would love to know who you want to see get engaged! <3
> 
> Anyway, here's some UshiTendou. The more I looked at fanart of these two for inspiration, the more I fell in love with them both. So I hope this one does them justice!

Tendou can’t stop fidgeting in the car on the way to the party. It starts with a light tap of his feet on the floorboards, but the closer they get to Ushijima’s office, the worse it gets and by the time they pull into the well-lit parking lot, he’s bouncing his leg anxiously and drumming his fingers on the dash. 

Ushijima says nothing, just considers his boyfriend carefully from the corner of his eye. He’s used to the crazy energy Tendou gives off, loves it even, but something is different about it tonight. He’s not being his usual teasing, excitable self and even in the light that floods from the parking lot through the car windows, Ushijima can see that Tendou’s eyes don’t hold their usual lively sparkle. And that, beyond anything else, puts him on edge.

But Ushijima is nothing if not patient. And they’re early to the party--Ushijima, much to Tendou’s disdain, lives by the rule ‘if you aren’t early, you’re late’--so he gives Tendou the time he needs to talk to him. It doesn’t usually take that long. Tendou is far less patient than Ushijima.

“What are you looking at, ‘Toshi?” Tendou finally breaks the silence. A smirk is playing on his lips, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Ushijima hums. “The parking lot. It’s less full than I expected it to be,” he glances at the glowing numbers on the car radio. “Everyone’s late.”

“Is that what you’re worried about?” Tendou huffs. “It’s a party, ‘Toshi. Nobody comes to parties on time.”

“We do,” Ushijima deadpans.

“I wouldn’t if you didn’t drag me out of the house forty minutes before they start every time.” Tendou gives Ushijima’s earlobe a playful tug and Ushijima turns to regard his boyfriend more fully. 

He really did have to nag Tendou about every little thing tonight- to shower and fix his hair, to get dressed, to find his shoes- but the end result is worth the effort on both their parts. He looks quite handsome with his normally-spiky red hair slicked back and his white shirt and tie offset by the fitted midnight-blue suit jacket and pants. Tendou had insisted on the fabric that had a slight sparkle to it rather than the matte one Ushijima had been initially considering and Ushijima is privately glad he relented. He looks almost too good- it had been a struggle for Ushijima to ignore the way his blood heated when he saw Tendou all dressed up, though in the end his desire to show off his boyfriend won out.

“Satori,” Ushijima’s voice is low, concerned. 

Tendou’s attempt at a smirk drops off his face and he averts his eyes to the window. He knows Ushijima is just worried, but it doesn’t stop him from sounding like he’s scolding a child rather than attempting to get his boyfriend to open up. It’s just a consequence of his stoicism combined with a ridiculously deep voice and on any other day Tendou would find his boyfriend’s scolding tone incredibly sexy, but right now his anxiety is preventing him from enjoying it to the fullest, so he just huffs out a breath and slouches in his seat a little. 

“Are we gonna go in or what?” Tendou mumbles.

Ushijima reaches over and takes Tendou’s chin in his hand, turning his head very gently to face him. He’s frowning and it would be easy for anyone else to read his expression as one of irritation or annoyance, but Tendou can see the softness around the edges of his mouth and the worry in his dark green eyes. It always amazes him how someone with such an intimidating presence, all hard muscles and sharp lines and narrowed eyes, can look at Tendou Satori of all people with such tenderness and affection.

Tendou’s heart clenches with guilt at the look in Ushijima’s eyes. He knows he’s being a brat, but he can’t seem to stop himself. And of course Ushijima isn’t mad about it at all, which only serves to make Tendou feel even worse.

“We’ll stay out here until you tell me what’s wrong,” Ushijima announces.

“We’ll miss your party.”

“We won’t,” Ushijima says confidently. His hand is still holding Tendou’s chin, though it’s more like his cupping his face now, thumb grazing over his jawline softly. 

It isn’t fair, Tendou thinks, how disarmingly gentle Ushijima can be, breaking through his defenses with just a look or a touch. 

“This is an important party for you, yeah?” Tendou phrases it like a question, but they both know it isn’t one, really. Ushijima was promoted to department head only a few months ago and this Christmas party is his first opportunity to really mingle with the big-wigs in corporate. Tendou can only assume that, despite the festive occasion, they will be watching Ushijima closely.

“I suppose so,” Ushijima frowns. “As important as a party can be in the grand scheme of things.”

“Then are you sure you want me in there with you?” Ushijima’s frown deepens and he looks as though he genuinely doesn’t understand the question. “I’m not exactly known for making the best first impression,” Tendou clarifies.

“So?”

“So…” Tendou rolls his eyes, but leans into Ushijima’s touch, simultaneously annoyed and relieved that he has to explain this to his boyfriend. “I don’t want to jeopardize your career or embarrass you in front of important people or…” he trails off.

“Satori,” Ushijima says again and, this time, it is a reprimand. His voice is hard and his eyes flash dangerously and if Tendou had been anyone else, he might have been afraid the taller man might hit him. “I have never been embarrassed by you.”

“There’s a first time for everything, right?” Tendou shrugs.

“Not this,” Ushijima asserts. “Besides, the only person who can jeopardize my career is me. The only effect my personal life has on my career is that I have an incredibly supportive partner who makes me stronger, smarter, and more compassionate towards my peers. My superiors should be grateful to you for that.”

“Ugh,” Tendou groans, clasping his hand over Ushijima’s. He can feel the heat radiating from his face and wrinkles his nose at his boyfriend. “You’re a goddamn sap, you know that?”

“That is something you can take credit for,” Ushijima says, leaning over the center console to place a soft kiss on the corner of Tendou’s mouth. “Now let’s go in. We’re late.”

“The party doesn’t start for another five minutes,” the redhead whines, but the low chuckle Ushijima lets out when he gets out of the car and the small smile on his face when he opens the passenger door for Tendou is enough to push the last of his nerves away, replacing them with a feeling of overwhelming affection and contentment.


	22. Fireplace: Tsukishima/Bokuto/Akaashi/Kuroo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to add some more Tsukki/Bokuto/Akaashi/Kuroo in here! This one's a little short, but hopefully a little sexy, too. ;)
> 
> I really enjoy the idea of Bo being so obliviously sexy and the rest of them just being completely thirsty.

“‘Kaashi, are you trying to disintegrate that cup or is it just super dirty?” 

Akaashi rips his eyes away from the view out the kitchen window and glances down at the coffee mug in his hand and then over to where Kuroo is seated at the kitchen table, chin resting on his hands, smirking at his boyfriend. Kuroo’s smirk widens when he sees how quickly Akaashi’s cheeks and the tips of his ears turn pink. He doesn’t answer, though, just sets the cup down on the drying rack and turns back to the window 

“Now I’m curious...what’s going on out there?” Kuroo gets up from his seat and moves behind Akaashi, pressing his chest to the shorter man’s back and nuzzling his chin into Akaashi’s wild black curls. He wraps his arms around Akaashi’s waist and presses his palms flat against the hard planes of his boyfriend’s stomach and chest.

The view outside is quite beautiful- they had rented out a tiny cabin out in the woods for their holiday break. It’s unseasonably warm this year, so although they don’t have the gorgeous snowy view that they had planned when they rented the place, the afternoon sun reflects off the partially-frozen lake and hits the mountains in the distance just right. But that’s not what had captured Akaashi’s attention.

“Oh, wow,” Kuroo breathes into Akaashi’s ear, drawing a shiver out of him. “What. A. View.”

“Mmm,” Akaashi hums in agreement, leaning into Kuroo’s touch without breaking his gaze from where it’s trained on the front yard.

Bokuto is outside, clad in a pair of torn jeans and a white tee shirt. When he had gone out earlier, he had been wearing a gray hoodie over the tee shirt, but his physical exertion had caused him to shed that pretty quickly and Akaashi and Kuroo are both grateful for that. The tee shirt is tight, giving the two observers a nice view of the lines of Bokuto’s arms, shoulders, and chest as he raises his arms over his head and swings the axe down to split a piece of wood. His shock of black and white hair is hanging partially in his eyes, wet with perspiration, and his biceps strain and flex with the weight of the axe.

Over the course of their relationship, they have obviously seen Bokuto in far less than this- he’s got a body that could have easily been sculpted by the gods themselves and he knows it. He loves walking around in nothing but his workout shorts, lounging in nothing but his boxer briefs, or crossing their apartment in the buff because he “forgot” his towel after his shower. But something about the sight of tanned skin showing through the tears in his worn jeans and the way his muscles ripple under his sweat-damp shirt has them so completely transfixed that they don’t even hear Tsukishima approach until he’s speaking almost directly in Kuroo’s ear, causing him to let out a decidedly un-manly squeak.

“What are you two…” Tsukishima’s voice drops off and he leans forward, adjusting his glasses, as he takes in the sight through the window. “Oh.” 

“Yeah,” Akaashi and Kuroo murmur in unison.

Kuroo chances a glance over at Tsukki. His face remains in its normal stoic state, but his gold eyes are darkened, intense, and hungry-looking, which just makes Kuroo’s blood rush even hotter and faster in his veins. Then Tsukishima and Akaashi both suck in a breath and Tsukishima catches his bottom lip between his teeth. Kuroo’s eyes flick back to the window and his breath hitches because Bokuto has taken hold of the bottom of his tee shirt and is using it to wipe the sweat from his forehead and, while it’s a shame to cover such a gorgeous face, nobody is complaining about the sight of Bokuto’s tanned abs, shiny and sweat slick. 

Tsukishima swallows and his hand moves of its own accord, gripping the bottom of Kuroo’s shirt and brushing his fingers over the sensitive skin of his hip. Even without looking, he knows right where to touch Kuroo to make his legs turn to jelly. In turn, Akaashi slips an arm around Tsukki’s waist, pulling him closer to where he and Kuroo are intertwined. 

“How long has he been out there?” Tsukishima finally asks. His voice somehow comes out thick and raspy at the same time and Kuroo’s stomach flips over at the sound. 

“Half hour or so,” Akaashi answers, slipping under Tsukishima’s shirt and pressing a warm hand to the small of his back. 

Tsukishima clicks his tongue in annoyance. “I can’t believe you two assholes didn’t come get me for this.”

Akaashi has the decency to look apologetic, though not for long as he shivers when Kuroo husks a low laugh in his ear. “He wanted to take advantage while the sun was high and then I got...distracted,” Akaashi says with a sheepish shrug.

“Bless that man,” Kuroo mutters, pressing his lower body flush against Akaashi’s and eliciting a small gasp from his boyfriend. “What a gift. What a gem,” he mumbles against the shell of Akaashi’s ear. Nonsense words keep tumbling out of his mouth- Kuroo has literally never known when to shut up- but Akaashi doesn’t seem to mind as Kuroo’s breath ghosts over his neck and ear.

Tsukishima lifts an eyebrow in mock-annoyance as he glances at the two of them, but the facade slips as soon as he takes in the flush high on Akaashi’s cheeks and the way Kuroo’s lips brush against Akaashi’s ear. The sound of Kuroo’s voice and Akaashi’s small sighs send electric shocks down Tsukishima’s spine. Both sets of eyes are dark with desire and he knows the look is reflected in his own. He presses in close to his boyfriends in an attempt to occupy as much of the same space as possible. 

“So, uh,” Tsukishima says, resting his head against Kuroo’s, lips brushing against those high cheekbones he loves so much. He smirks and drags his eyes back to Bokuto, drinking in the sight like Bo is a fountain and Tsukishima's dying of thirst (which, to be honest, he might be at this point). “When are we gonna tell him this place has an electric fireplace?”


	23. Letter: Hinata/Kageyama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some more sweet, fluffy KageHina 
> 
> Also, I'm unsure of Natsu's age and the Haikyuu wiki was no help, but she looked 6-ish to me (though for some reason I had it in my head that she was 9? Is this clear in the manga or no?) so I took some artistic liberties.

**To: Yamayama**  
_Srry, running late_  
_Almost there_  
_Ran into an issue_  
_S’ok if you wanna cxl_

**From: Yamayama**  
_Dnt wrry_  
_I’ll wait_  
_Dumbass_

Hinata can’t keep the goofy smile from spreading across his face as Kageyama’s last text comes in. He can practically see him smirking at his phone, rolling his eyes at every frantic text Hinata sends, can hear the combination of annoyance and affection in his voice, a tone he saves for his boyfriend alone. 

_Boyfriend._

It’s been a few months since the heated argument after an extended practice that ended in an even more heated kiss and Kageyama practically yelling, “Be my boyfriend!” and stunning Hinata into silence for the first time in, like, ever (though he’s pretty sure he looked like a bobblehead with how enthusiastically he was nodding his head). Despite that, the word still feels foreign and causes his stomach to this weird bubbly-bubbly thing. But in a good way, of course. 

A finger pokes his cheek, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“What’s wrong with your face, Nii-chan? Why is it all blushy? It isn’t that cold outside! Are you talking to Toooobioooo?”

Hinata swats the hand away and glares at his sister, the aforementioned “issue.” Her face is half-covered beneath her scarf and hat, wild red hair sticking out all over the place, and her big brown eyes take up most of the rest of her face, but Hinata can see her pout underneath it all. He sighs and clasps her hand in his, urging her forward a little faster. 

“Yes, Natsu, I was just letting him know I was running late.”

She giggles, satisfied with his answer, and Hinata is relieved she let the previous questions drop. He really loves his sister, but boy is she _a lot_. And he would know; he's the king of _a lot._ Where else would she get it from? He sighs again and his mind drifts back to worrying that Kageyama will be mad that they now have a third wheel on what was supposed to be their last date before Shouyo and Natsu are forced even further out into the country to visit their dad for the holiday. He knows Kageyama would never say he's mad, not in front of Natsu anyway, but that knowledge does nothing to ease the little bubble of anxiety in his chest.

“There he is! TOOOBIOOO!” Natsu shrieks, breaking away from Hinata and making a run for the tall, dark-haired boy standing at the park entrance before Hinata even has a chance to react. Kageyama’s blue eyes widen comically as the little redhead bundle launches herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist and nearly knocking him on his ass.

By the time Hinata reaches them, sputtering out apologies, Kageyama has recovered and is holding Natsu on his hip like it’s the most natural thing in the world (because of course he is- he can make literally anything look effortless...except maybe smiling...or petting kittens), half-listening to the girl chatter away, his eyes trained on Hinata with an eyebrow arched in silent question.

“Sorry,” Hinata mumbles. “Mom made me bring her so she could mail this dumb letter to Santa and I tried to explain to her that we won’t see each other for _two weeks_ but then she said if I didn’t take Natsu it would be even longer than that because I would be ground-” 

“Hey,” Kageyama interrupts, his voice low and steady, but tinged with amusement. He sets Natsu down, but keeps a grip on her hand as though afraid she’ll take off running- unlikely, considering how much she adores Kageyama. He leans down and presses a swift kiss to Hinata’s temple, swirling up a flurry of butterflies in the redhead’s stomach. “I said don’t worry about it, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but that was before you knew about…” he trails off, nodding his head toward Natsu, who is clutching onto Kageyama’s hand, her letter to Santa crumpled in her other fist. 

Kageyama snorts and rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry about it,” he repeats, lips quirking up into that half-smile that makes Hinata’s heart go _bwaaah_. “As long as we’re spending time together, it’s good.”

“Waaah, you can’t just say stuff like that, Yamayama!” Hinata shouts, cheeks and ears blushing bright red.

Kageyama hides his chuckle behind his hand and turns to Natsu, ignoring his flailing, flushing boyfriend. “So, Natsu, should we go mail your letter and then get some hot cocoa?”

“With extra whipped cream and marshmallows!” she exclaims, pumping the fist still clutching her crumpled letter in the air in a move frighteningly reminiscent of her older brother. 

“Is there any other way to drink cocoa?” Kageyama grins, pulling Natsu up and onto his shoulders in one swift motion. He holds tight to her ankles and doesn't even flinch when she clutches onto his hair, shrieking about how high up she is. “Coming, Dumbass?” Kageyama calls, snapping Hinata out of the trance his boyfriend’s managed to put him in just by being possibly the biggest teddy bear Hinata’s ever seen.

“Yeah, Dumbass!” Natsu echoes and Hinata’s offended protests are drowned out by Kageyama’s laughter as he rushes to catch up.


	24. Cocoa: Yachi/Kiyoko

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eep, one more to go! I doubt I will have it out tonight, but you'll have it tomorrow for SURE.
> 
> In the meantime, enjoy some Yachi/Kiyoko plus the obligatory coffee shop AU <3

Try as she might (and she tries hard because it’s not like she particularly _enjoys_ being a blushing, flustered mess), Yachi can’t keep her eyes from automatically searching out the cute barista every time she enters Karasuno Cafe for her daily hot cocoa. She can’t help it, though. Shimizu Kiyoko has a model-slim figure unfairly covered by the black apron she wears, she has the shiniest black hair Yachi has ever seen, and seriously sparkly gray eyes hidden behind the cutest pink-framed glasses. And as though all that weren’t enough to turn Yachi’s insides into jelly, she’s got the sweetest beauty mark on her chin. It’s unfair, really.

All this adds up to Yachi being simultaneously relieved and disappointed when her brown eyes scan the counter and only see Suga and Asahi, the other two university students who work at Karasuno. Not that Yachi doesn’t like the pair- they’re actually quite nice once you get past Suga’s constant teasing and Asahi’s intimidating size- and she can actually form complete sentences around them, which is nice.

But they aren’t _her_.

Regardless, she swallows her disappointment and approaches the counter where Suga is flashing his usual bright smile.

“Good morning, Yachi-san!” he chirps and she jumps a little at the sudden volume in his voice when he says her name. Asahi gives him a look from the other end of the counter where he’s busy stocking the pastry case, but Suga merely maintains his smile.

“Good morning, Suga-san, Asahi-san,” Yachi says, shifting her bag on her shoulder and worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. She tugs her pink scarf loose from her neck and her brown eyes sweep behind the counter one last time, hoping to see a flash of black hair or gray eyes that she might have missed before.

“Kiyoko is in the back. Her shift starts in about five minutes or so. Would you like your usual to go or will you be staying for a while?” Suga says, face the picture of innocence, even as Asahi is shooting daggers at him with his eyes.

Yachi chokes on air and she’s sure her face is as red as the strawberry-topped pastry Asahi is currently putting in the case. “I-” she squeaks, clapping her hands against her burning cheeks. She takes a deep breath and tries again, averting her eyes from Suga who has the audacity to giggle behind his hand over how flustered she is. “For here,” she mumbles, though she has a feeling she will regret this decision. “I have some work to do,” she gestures at her bag, suddenly feeling the need to prove that she is there to work, not just creep on their hot friend and coworker.

“Any pastries today, Yachi-san?”

Yachi shakes her head quickly, practically throws the money she owes on the counter before ducking her head and turning to occupy her favorite table in the corner which, despite the business of the small shop, is miraculously unoccupied. She pulls her tablet out and, after sneaking one last look to the front of the shop to see if Kiyoko has come out of the back room (she hasn’t) she quickly loses herself in her drawing.

A soft _clink_ pulls her attention away from her tablet and, just when she’s entered a state of calm, there’s Kiyoko standing next to her table, placing the extra-large cup of hot cocoa (extra whipped cream, extra cinnamon) on the table and she momentarily loses her ability to breathe. 

“Is there anything else I can get for you, Yachi-san?’ she asks. 

Yachi is aware that she should speak, should say literally anything, but she’s so distracted by the soft pink blush dusting high cheekbones, she can’t do anything but stare for a moment.

“That’s beautiful,” Kiyoko breaks the silence, nodding down at Yachi’s tablet laying forgotten on the table in front of her.

“Oh! Um,” her blush is back full-force, but Kiyoko is looking between Yachi and the tablet so intently that Yachi has no choice but to force human words out of her mouth. “Thank you, Shimizu-san. It’s a self-portrait. For, um, one of my classes.” She pushes a hand through her blonde hair, suddenly feeling very exposed under Kiyoko’s gaze and she looks back down at the tablet. 

She supposes the portrait is decent, it’s passable enough for her art class anyway. It’s a portrait of her, shoulders up, done mostly in black and white. In the portrait she is holding a paintbrush and the drops of paint are trickling down her face and neck, filling her with color. 

The other girl’s lips quirk up in a small smile that makes Yachi’s heart flip over and she nods, pushing her glasses up. “It’s very beautiful,” she repeats, eyes locked on Yachi’s. “I think you’re very talented.” Yachi’s already-wide eyes get even bigger when she sees the soft blush on Kiyoko’s cheeks darken. The raven-haired girl flashes Yachi another smile and takes a step back. “I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if there’s anything else I can get you.”

Yachi manages to half-speak, half-shout a “Thank you!” as Kiyoko turns away and heads back to the counter. The blonde buries her face in her hands, but not before she catches sight of Suga elbowing Kiyoko excitedly and whispering in her ear, bright eyes on Yachi.

Yachi flushes again and picks up the steaming cup of hot cocoa, grateful for something to do with her hands that isn’t art. She’s too rattled by the compliments Kiyoko gave her to do anything detail-oriented at the moment. 

A flash of pink on the saucer her cup had been resting on catches her eye. Her already-pink cheeks go even pinker and she turns her wide eyes over to the counter where Kiyoko is looking very intently at her through impossibly long, dark lashes. She picks up the small slip of paper, running a finger over the nine numbers written in pink ink. They are followed by a short note, handwriting so familiar to Yachi from all the times Kiyoko has printed her name neatly on a paper to-go cup.

_Call me Kiyoko_

Yachi doesn’t think she could blush any harder if she tried, but she flashes Kiyoko what is probably the dopiest grin that has ever graced her face as she programs the numbers into her phone.


	25. Unwrap: Daichi/Sugawara/Asahi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, I totally meant to have this posted on the 1st, but a bout of the stomach flu left me incapacitated and unable to walk three feet without getting sick, let alone writing and/or posting, so happy 2020 to me, right?!
> 
> Anyway, it's here! The final chapter and I had to end it with our beloved third years Daichi/Suga/Asahi. I hope you all like it!
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me through the many delays and constant struggles. I would love to hear your thoughts on the project as a whole- what was your favorite chapter/pairing/prompt? Is there anything you'd like to see a continuation of? Any one-shot requests that I didn't get around to that you'd like to see? I'll be focusing on my main fic for the forseeable future, but I've really enjoyed these one-shots and would like to do something a little longer, a lot smuttier, and a helluva lot more edited for you all!

“Is that everything?” Suga asks, leaning forward in his cocoon of new scarves and sweaters to make one last sweep of the Christmas tree. He loves to be cozy and Asahi and Daichi always take Christmas as an opportunity to spoil him with more cashmere than one human could possibly need.

“Uh, actually, there’s a couple more here,” Daichi says, pulling two large boxes out from god knows where and pushing them toward his boyfriends.

Asahi looks up from where he’s been quietly flipping through the cookbook he just opened and frowns. He glances between the three of them, silently counting the boxes they’ve opened. “Daichi, you got us too much.”

“Please, you’re one to talk,” Daichi says, gesturing around him. “The only reason you’re able to stick to the limit is because you always shove a bunch of stuff in one box!”

Asahi opens his mouth to protest, but is cut off by Suga’s snickers. “He isn’t wrong, Asahi,” he says, leaning over to peck a kiss on Asahi’s scruffy cheek before turning a hard look to Daichi. “But you’re both making me look bad, now,” he pouts. “It looks like I’m slacking!”

Daichi rolls his eyes at his boyfriends’ protests and pouts and leans forward slightly, gesturing for the two men to open the packages. Each is wrapped in matching elegant black paper and, in lieu of a name tag, there is a photograph slipped under the ribbon. Suga’s is a photo of the two of them standing outside Suga’s house on their first day of high school- Suga’s mom had made them pose together before allowing them to leave that morning. Daichi huffs out a laugh as Suga crinkles his nose at the memory before setting the photo carefully aside and tearing into the paper. 

At the same time, Asahi is staring at his own photo, a selfie of the two of them on the bus on the way home from their first away volleyball game. Their faces are squished together, flushed pink with exertion and excitement, and their hair is still damp from the post-game shower. At a closer glance, Asahi can see whisps of silver hair on Daichi’s shoulder and he remembers how quickly Suga fell asleep when they got back on the bus that day.

Daichi watches his boyfriends open their gifts. Suga rips into the paper like a three-year-old and Asahi carefully runs his fingers along the taped seams trying to cause as little destruction as possible. Different as their unwrapping styles are, the confused looks on their faces are perfectly in sync when they open the box only to find another box inside. They look at him with matching frowns that make Daichi let out a low chuckle.

“What is this, Dai?” Suga pouts.

“Just keep going!” Daichi gestures towards them both. His palms are starting to sweat a little and he’s starting to regret turning this into such a process. He should have known his boyfriends would draw this out as painfully long as possible.

Again, each box has a different photograph slipped under the ribbon tied carefully around the package. This time, each one is of the three of them. One is a selfie Suga snapped at one of their many sleepovers. All three are sleep-deprived, on a sugar high, and laughing about something. Suga’s eyes are closed and that trademark blinding smile on full display, Daichi has tears in his eyes, and Asahi’s face is half hidden by his hand.

Each box contains another box and another photo and each time one of them pulls out a box, Suga’s pout increases and Asahi worries his bottom lip between his teeth. Despite their confusion, Daichi can tell they are enjoying looking through the photographs as much as he enjoyed picking them out for this purpose. It’s a trip down memory lane for all three of them, a combination of mundane moments and milestones in their relationship.

There’s a photo of the three of them at their high school graduation- a little blurry because he’s pretty sure Hinata ended up taking that one, but that just adds to the importance of that particular photo for the three of them. One is of the three of them at a Halloween party, dressed as three of the classic Universal monsters that Suga loves so much- Daichi as Frankenstein’s monster, Suga as a silver-haired Dracula, and, of course, Asahi as the Wolf Man. All three of them are tipsy and laughing, despite their attempts to look scare for the photo. Another photo is one Daichi took the day they moved into their first apartment. After the whirlwind that was their “help” moving- if that’s what you’d call Tanaka, Noya, Hinata, and Kageyama- left, Suga and Asahi had collapsed on the couch and immediately fallen asleep in each other’s arms. 

There are six boxes for each of Daichi’s partners and the only duplicate photo he’s chosen is for the final box. It’s a photo of the three of them on their first official date as partners, not long after a nerve wracking and tearful confession. The photo centers on Asahi who, despite his incredibly flushed cheeks, is grinning like a fool as his two partners press their lips to his cheeks. 

Daichi is amused to note that Asahi is blushing just as hard looking at the photograph as he is in it; something about Asahi’s pink cheeks and Suga’s sparkling eyes as they gaze at the pictures lets Daichi know that he chose the right one and eases his anxiety a little bit.

“This is the last one, I promise,” Daichi laughs as they tear into the paper. Even the careful and cautious Asahi is starting to get a little impatient and rips into the paper without a second thought.

They carefully lift the photo albums out of the small box- Asahi’s is a deep forest green and Suga’s a pale blue and inspect them.

“There’s, ah, more pictures inside,” Daichi says, voice thick, as he moves to sit between his two boyfriends. He pushes the mound of boxes and paper aside to make some room for himself, careful not to disturb the small stack of photographs that have come out of the boxes. 

Daichi stares down at his hands as they flip through the books, trying to will them to stop shaking. He can almost tell which photos they’re looking at by the huffs of laughter, snorts, and embarrassed groans the two men let out and then, finally, there it is. It’s quiet save for a sharp intake of breath from Suga. 

The last photo is one he took in secret while they were out doing some last-minute Christmas shopping. Three rings laid out on their coffee table with a note above it that simply reads, _“Will you?”_ It’s not the most elegant composition (Suga’s the Instagram genius) but it gets the point across in a very Daichi way.

“Dai…” Asahi breathes, and Daichi lifts his head to meet his brown eyes. He shuffles around in the pocket of his robe for a moment and pulls out three small jewelry boxes, double checking the tiny initial he wrote on the bottom before holding two of them out on either side. 

“I know it can’t be...official. At least, not yet and not in the way that’s ideal for us. But…I wanted to ask you to wear these anyway and make it sort of...unofficially official...” his voice drops off for a moment and that’s all the time Suga needs to fling himself out of his pile of cashmere sweaters and scarves and launch himself at Daichi, wrapping his surprisingly strong arms around Daichi’s broad chest and burying a tearful face in his neck. Asahi’s own eyes are filling with tears as they flick between Daichi’s face and the ring box in his hand, but his mouth is stretched into one of the biggest grins Daichi has ever seen on his boyfriend’s face.

“Uh,” Daichi clears his throat, but his voice still comes out raspy with the effort of holding in his own tears. “Is this a yes?”

Suga snatches the ring box out of his hand and gives Daichi a swift punch to the ribs. “Are you stupid? Of course it’s a yes!”

Asahi can only nod his head dumbly and Daichi’s heart feels like it’s going to explode with how full it is. He grips Asahi’s chin in his hand and plants a swift kiss on his lips before wrapping an arm around Suga’s waist and hauling him over both of their laps and planting a gentle kiss on the silver-haired man’s lips as well. With shaky hands, he slips the rings he chose, a small silver band with three small diamonds embedded in it, on their fingers.

They spend the rest of the morning going through their photo books, adding the pictures from the gift boxes, and exchanging soft, lazy kisses until Daichi forgets why he was ever nervous about asking them to marry him in the first place.


End file.
